


Bloodlines

by fated13th



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Hunter Mary, Men of Letters, Post-Season/Series 11, Pre-Season/Series 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8271088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fated13th/pseuds/fated13th
Summary: Amara has gone on vacation with Chuck, but she left Dean a gift, his mother. Now Dean and Mary have to find Sam who has been taken by a Lady Bevell of the Men of Letters, London Chapter.





	

Part 1

A wisp of air breathed across her cheek, and the faint sounds of frogs chirping in the distance met her as she opened her eyes upon a dark but beautiful garden or park. The same breeze that had caressed her cheek rustled some trees as it left the meadow she was standing in. A stream crossed the meadow and a bridge crossed it for a path marked walkers on the right, bikers to the left. So a park? She looked up, the stars were bright and there was no moon or city light to negate their beauty. An owl hooted and she looked to her right but saw only trees. A street lamp lit the far side of the meadow and she guessed that there was a street on that side. She felt so peaceful like she had slept for a week rather than hardly slept in six months with a newborn baby who refused to sleep through the night.

She pushed an errant strand of hair from her face and noticed she was in her nightgown, a white flowing thing that she loved for its comfort on cool fall nights. This is nice. She thought to herself and stepped towards the path, wondering if Journey or David Bowie were going to come walking up to her in this dream. A sharp pain in her foot and she stepped back, the stick she hadn’t noticed to step over had hurt under her foot.

Wait, it had hurt, she almost never felt pain in a dream. She pinched her arm, it hurt too and in the moonlight, she could see that it left a mark on her skin that slowly faded. She didn’t have dreams that were that realistic.

A feeling like cold water started trickling slowly up her spine. This was no dream. She was really in this park. Alone. Where was John? Dean and Sammy? Realizing her breathing was running away she took deep breaths to calm herself. How had she gotten here? Think, think! All she could do was draw a blank. What was the last thing she could remember?

John had woken her with a kiss, they had made up the night before after fighting for two weeks. He had even made breakfast while she showered and had both the boys dressed and eating before she came downstairs, they had kissed again, Dean had made yucky sounds, and John had gone to work. Then what? She took another deep breath to help her think. The boys had played, she had made a pie, the boys napped. She had worked on a quilt for Millie and had had to work hard not to eat the pie before John got home.

John had come home. She had put dinner in the oven, they had all gone for a walk, Dean had run ahead to the swings as they were coming up to the park. When they reached the park he called to them “Sammy, watch this!” then once John had turned Sammy so he faced the park Dean had flown from the swing. While he was still in the air she had known that it would not be a pretty landing and she had been right. Dean’s feet surprisingly hit first but his momentum carried him forward and into the merry-go-round. A yelp and he was lost from sight behind the playground equipment. John handed Sammy to her then ran over to Dean.

By the time she arrived at the landing spot, Dean was sitting on the merry-go-round and John had him laughing. There were few things more attractive, more sexy, than seeing John with their boys. They had gone back after that, had pie for desert, bath time and put the boys to bed. When she was about to kiss Dean good night he had asked her to kiss his freshly bruised shin better. She had smiled and kissed it better, then tucked him in with her usual “angels are watching over you,” and kissed his forehead before turning off the lights.

Sammy had gone to sleep almost as soon as she started rocking him. John had gone down to watch the game and she had gone upstairs, knowing that John would take care of Sammy if he cried, and she could sleep. She had gone to bed but she couldn’t remember anything after that. But there must have been something or else how had she ended up at this park?

She suddenly felt young and alone and afraid. Like when she was Dean’s age and her father had taken her to the store and locked her in the car when he had seen a monster around a corner, and she had sat there, locked in the car waiting for hours for her Daddy to come back. Oh, that was a terrible memory. He had come back soaked in blood, some of it his own, and had put a body in the trunk. That had been the first time she had realized that all the scary stories that her parents told, were true. But these memories didn’t help her now. John. If she could find John, she could find her little boys. Maybe he was around here too. “John?” It was a croak as if hadn’t used her voice in weeks. She tried again, “John! Help me!” this time is was louder and stronger, but there was no response. “John!” she waited a moment longer, wishing she had a weapon or protections of some sort. Think rationally, she told herself. If John were around, and he didn’t respond to his name his protection instincts would kick in if he thought her in danger. So louder and with an innocent, slightly scared voice she called “Help!”

She heard something rustle in the trees. She didn’t dare go towards the unknown rustling since whoever, or whatever it was would have concealment and she wouldn’t but she called again, “Help me!” There were more rustling and a man she had never seen before came out of the trees.

He was tall, about as tall as John, and while broad, not as barrel chested. There was something familiar about this stranger. She could not remember him, but she knew that at some point she had known him, and felt an upwelling of emotions she couldn’t explain. He was staring at her and she was suddenly conscious of the fact that she was in her bare feet, and a nightgown and nothing else. While he wasn’t staring at her chest she was self-conscious and crossed her arms. He said something softly that she just barely couldn’t make out, her name?

“What was that?” she asked. Despite the unexplainable emotions she felt, somehow she knew she could trust him. That he had her best interests at heart. And that worried her.

“Uh, Mary. Right?” Okay, this was getting weirder and weirder.

“Do I know you?”

“Uh, um, uh, yeah. We met a few years back, but I don’t think you’d remember me, at least not looking like this, though I looked like this the last time I saw you.” He realized he was rambling and shut his mouth.

“Am I supposed to understand what that means?”

“Uh, no, I suppose not.” He seemed to be getting his thoughts together. “What are you doing here?” there was genuine confusion and interest in that question.

“I’m not sure. Who are you?”

He was silent for a moment, swallowed loudly enough that she could hear it across the intervening twenty feet then said. “Dean.” In her mind she smiled, anytime she heard of anyone named Dean or Sammy she smiled in her mind, how could a mother not?

“Dean, where are we?” that seemed to take him aback a bit. He lifted his hand which seemed to have some sort of plastic box in it, he looked at it then back at her.

“I’m not sure. I, uh, didn’t come, I mean, I was brought here, without knowing where I am, or at least where this place is…” He was staring again and it was somewhat unnerving.

“Okay, well. My husband will be looking for me. I should get home.” As she turned towards the streetlamp a few hundred feet away she glimpsed his face as she turned and stopped. His face was a mask of sorrowful horror. She refused to think about what that could mean, but took a deep breath and looked back at Dean who’s face had a;ready switched to a blank mask.

“Dean, what do you know about my husband?” He was silent. “Dean,” she could hear ‘angry mom’ creeping into her voice but somehow felt it might actually help in this case. “What do you know about my husband?”

“I haven’t seen John in years. It’s just been a long time since I saw him, that's all.”

“That is not all. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Uh, it's just that the last few times we saw each other it was alternating between excited to see each other and being angry with each other.” She could tell that was true, but she could also tell that that was a partial truth. Then again, most people who knew John well tended to feel that way. She pushed her fear away to the back recesses of her mind.

“I’m going towards that street to try to figure out where we are. Any chance the people who brought you left you a car?”

He chuckled slightly at that, “No. They did not leave me a car.” He gestured towards the path leading to the far side of the meadow and walking towards her said, “Lets figure out where we are.” They walked side by side but a few feet apart from each other down the path towards the light and assumed street beyond. Something about him made her wary of their surroundings, yet trusting of him. The fact that she couldn’t remember was disturbing but not as disturbing as finding herself standing in a park in the middle of the night with no memory of how she got there. She hated to think that maybe her family’s past was catching up with her, again.

Since her wedding, she had killed two werewolves and a Norse god which had come after her when they couldn’t find her father. Fortunately, the Norse god had been when she and John had been separated and Dean visiting Millie, and the werewolves when Dean had been two. That time they had been hiking and the werewolves had caught her scent. She had placed Dean in a log and told him to hide, there were bad dogs and mommy was going to take care of them. She didn’t think he had seen anything, but he still didn’t like dogs.

This Dean was alternating between staring at her and checking their surroundings. “Where are you from Dean?” she asked.

“I was born in Kansas, but we moved around a lot, I still do.”

“Really, I’ve spent the past 15 years in Kansas. I love it here, assuming we are in Kansas.” She looked at him hard. He was probably ten years older than her, with a hint of wrinkles around the eyes, somehow she didn’t think they were from laughing. He was fit, dressed very outdoorsy, a canvas jacket over a plaid shirt and jeans, with work boots sticking out from under the jeans. Maybe he was a farmer? That would explain his lean but obvious physical strength.

“My guess is Kansas. Whenever I’m dropped someplace without knowing where I am, it’s almost always been in Kansas.”

She looked over at him sharply. “This happens to you often?” He shrugged and kept walking. What was up with this guy? She looked forward again and kept walking, trying to keep her thoughts empty. Thinking was emotionally draining. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dean trip and he grabbed her arm to steady himself.

She looked down at his cold hand on her arm and instincts she thought she had left in the past took over. She grabbed his wrist and twisted, turning his arm and forcing him to the ground, his wrist in a lock. Under his now loose hand was a keychain of supernatural protections that he had touched her arm with when he ‘tripped’ and he had a blade to her throat.

Very slowly she looked from his hand up to his face. It was the strangest mixture of hope and fear she had ever seen. Again, something about him was familiar but she couldn’t place it. “You’re a hunter.” She couldn’t help that it came out like an accusation.

What surprised her and apparently him based on his face, was that his voice came out with almost as much accusation when he replied: “So were you.” Slowly he moved his knife, very slowly he placed the flat of it against her arm and looked at her. When she had no reaction to the blade he slowly moved to sheath it. She let go of his wrist.

“You worked with my father then? Is that how you know me?” She stood and watched him stand.

“I have, and some of your cousins.” There was anger hidden in that reply and she didn’t know why.

“How come I haven’t heard him talk about you?”

“I only knew him a short time. Come on.” He paused obviously about to say something else, then ended lamely with. “Mary.”

They had only walked a few paces side by side when he stopped. “Hang on a second.” He didn’t turn towards her but clasped his hands in front of him and called out, “Cas, my phone is dead. I’m alive, and could really use some advice right now. So pop on over here.” He stood there waiting and nothing happened.

She was about to say something when he spoke again, a little louder. “HEY, CASTIEL, I need a little help here. Talk to me!” again they stood in silence. After a minute he muttered, “Where is that little bugger?” then he turned back to her and lead the way back down the path, as if he would clear away any danger they might meet first, to protect her. What was up with this hunter? As they got closer to the light she could see that behind the trees to the right was gravel parking lot. “There’s a sign up here.” He was cautious, but he went forward and walked to the far side of the sign near the road. On the far side of the road was just trees, in the distance she thought she could see a field based on a break in the trees along the horizon, but the only lights she could see were far down the road in each direction.

“What does it say?” She watched him reach down and pull vines off the sign. “Well?” He didn’t say anything he just stared at the sign. When he still didn’t say anything she left the path and went over to see for herself. “Most Needed Park,” she then read the blurb at the bottom about how in the 1800’s a wagon team was dying of thirst until they found the spring here. She looked up at Dean. He was deeply emotional and trying to keep control. She looked at him from the corner of her eyes then started towards the overgrown parking lot. This guy was weird and there was obviously a lot going on with him that she didn’t know about.

It had been years since the park had been used regularly and there was a cinderblock building at the far end.Maybe she could find something useful in it. Before she was halfway across Dean seemed to have come back to himself.

“Where are you going?” he asked quickly catching up as she had to walk gingerly across the gravel.

“The shed. Maybe I can find some shoes or a jacket.” She didn’t look at him as he caught up and pretended not to notice the watery sheen at the top of his scruffy beard.

“Do you want a ride?” she stopped and looked at him.

“What?”

“This gravel can’t be good for your feet.” She was surprised and touched. Most hunters wouldn’t even think about the gravel. They would just expect a hunter to deal.

“I’m fine.” She said quietly. Who was this guy? They got to the shed and he pulled out his wallet, and flicked through it, obviously looking for a lock pick. She smiled. It was a combination lock, the kind she used for her bike, his picks would do him no good. She knelt down next to it and placed the back of the lock to her ear as she slowly began to turn the dial. “

“You can-“ she cut him off with a “Shhh” and listened. With a pop, she unlocked the shed and opened the doors. Dean’s arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her up and to the side. The same time she realized what he had done she heard a deep thunk and the sound of other tools bouncing and falling. She looked at where she had been standing and the spot now housed a 30-gallon steel drum that had fallen with enough force to dig into the ground a few inches and balance on a corner now hidden in the earth. Around it, a number of gardening tools littered the ground.

“Thank you.” She said quietly. He set her down and she turned to look at him. He was bed sheet white as if someone had actually stepped on his grave. He didn’t say anything, just turned and climbed into the maw of the dark shed. She heard him moving around, and a few oaths cut short when he remembered she was there after he bumped into something.

He found a flashlight that gave off a feeble light but it was enough to help. She watched as it created all kinds of shadows. Something about the flickering light scared her. It reminded her of something she couldn’t remember but thought that she probably should.

He came out, dirty and with a smudge on his forehead. But he held two pairs of rain boots, a pair of grease stained overalls that looked at least 20 years old and a disintegrating reflection vest. She looked at the stuff and couldn’t help but notice that Dean looked more disappointed than she did. He’d wanted to find something decent for her to wear. She picked up the smaller pair of boots that would still be too big for her and turning them upside down banged them together to get any debris out of them before slipping them on.

When she looked up again he was standing there holding out his canvas jacket to her. “I was hoping we could find something better, but… here.” She took the jacket and he let a look cross his face like a pleased little boy before it went stoic again.

The jacket was heavy, as she shrugged it on she realized there was something in one pocket. Pulling it onto her shoulders she reached into the right-hand pocket and felt a gun. Carefully she pulled it out and stared. Granted there wasn’t much light but she knew this gun. It was a stainless steel Colt with pearl grips. John had a pair almost exactly like it. She checked the chamber and the clip, both full and looked up at Dean. Apparently, he now trusted her.

He had gone out onto the street. He held the little plastic box in his hand and stared at it, but then he put it away, looked up and down the road. “The only lights I can see are along the road in the distance. Right or left? Your choice.”

She joined him, not liking the way the boots chafed at her calves. “I’m not sure it will make much of a difference.”

“Maybe, maybe not. My father was military, times like this he would start singing a marching song and whichever word right or left came first, that was the direction we would go.”

She looked at him. That seems like a strange detail for a hunter to share, normally hunters didn’t talk much about their pasts.

“Left,” she said and pointed. “There might be a little bit of light pollution that way.”

“Left it is”, he said. And he held out his arm. She stared at him.

What was with this guy? “Really?” She asked.

He looked like he was about to say something then changed his mind and said, “Will you please humor me?” She looked at him hard for a full minute. Then placed her hand on his arm and they walked up the road. They walked in silence and after they topped a slight rise in the mostly flat road they were hit by a cold breeze and she was grateful for both his jacket and his nearness.

Twice she tripped from the oversized shoes, both times he asked if she was okay, if she wanted to rest. Both times she said she was okay. They had gone a good five miles with no sign of another living being when they hit their first crossroads. The cross road was dirt, the one they were following was pavement. She watched as Dean went over to the dirt on both sides of the road and touched it.

“Either it has been super dry and/or windy for days or weeks or no one else has been out here.”

“Well, then we keep walking.” He smiled and held out his arm again. He was weird but he was chivalrous. This time she tucked her arm under his and they walked a little closer together. It was now past midnight and it was cold. He pulled out the plastic box, looked at it, then put it back in his pocket.

“What is that?”

“What is what?” he asked though he knew exactly what she was referring to.

“That plastic box thing you keep looking at.”

“Oh, uh, it’s a walkie-talkie type radio thing.”

“Wow. Descriptive.”

They walked on again. She stumbled and nearly fell and he caught her.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Silence. “Most hunters aren’t so… conscientious of others.”

After a long silence she was determined not to break, he spoke. “Thank you, I think. I’ve been thinking a million miles a minute since I saw you. I, I want to tell you, but I don’t know… How about this, will you let me make a deal with you? Let me find a newspaper and read the front page and then I will answer any and every question you have for me.”

She looked at him as he spoke. She could see that he was thinking hard, that he had been their whole walk. She had been trying not to think. Not to think of John who must be worried, or of what Dean would think if for the first time he woke up and she wasn’t nearby, or what would come of Sammy if she wasn’t there to feed him.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I promise you that once I’ve read the newspaper, I can explain why it makes sense. I’ll answer any and all questions then.”

“Any and all? You’re a hunter and you’re willing to let me ask anything?”

“I am a hunter and all that that implies. And yes for you, Mary Winchester, I will answer any question, no matter how painful it might be to do so.” He was specifically not looking at her. She wondered at his wording. He was clearly not a wordsmith, but he had chosen those words with a lot of thought and care.

“You are a strange man, Dean, but I’ll accept those terms.” His face softened but he kept looking ahead, at where they were going.

After another twenty minutes of walking and still no other lights than the street lights every mile or so, he spoke. “When I knew your dad, he was very proud of you. His love for you was very evident, but he didn’t say much about what you were, are like. If you could spend an evening with anyone from history, who would it be and why?” and so he asked her questions, favorite band, favorite color, worst movie ever seen…

This went on for hours. The guy was not really up on music and movies but he knew some and was able to keep the conversation going, but he was obviously trying to be careful about what he said. He was so strange.But at some point, he offered to piggyback her into town and her now blistered feet forced her to agree.

 

 

~ 

 

The sun was coming up when they finally saw signs of civilization. They passed a few driveways, but no lights were on that they could see and they agreed not to knock on a door if there was no light on. So they walked on. They were within sight of a small town when they finally saw a house with a light on but they passed it and went into town. The street was empty, and as they got closer they could see they were coming into town from a side country road, and that the main street crossed this one ahead. She had been telling about her friend Jenny’s annoying Tupperware parties when she saw a vehicle drive along Main street that she had never seen before.

“What was that?” she asked

“What?”

“That jeep, thing, that crossed the road up there.”

“It was a hummer.” She couldn’t see his face but she thought she could sense a little joy in his voice.

“What is a hummer?” she was getting grouchy, she was tired and sore, her feet hurt. She was impressed that Dean had only had to stop a few times while carrying her.

“It’s like a Jeep, but the design was inspired by the military.”

“It’s a military vehicle? Does that mean we are near a base?”

“It’s sometimes a military vehicle. We could be near a base, I have no idea. Looks like a bakery on the corner, let's go in there, see if they have a newspaper.” She was quiet again. There had been times he had sidestepped questions, but mostly he had answered the questions she had asked him back. But this was different, this was him shutting down again. He stepped onto the sidewalk when it appeared and walked up to the bakery. It was still closed, but there was a light on inside. The hours in the window said they opened at 5:30 on weekdays, she was pretty sure it was a weekday, at least it should be a Tuesday. They could wait a few minutes. Surely it couldn’t be that long till then.

Dean knocked on the window. Nothing. He knocked again a little louder. They could hear a muffled “We open in half an hour.” Dean raised his hand to knock again and she caught it. “It’s alright, we can wait.”

“No. Your feet need to be washed off and the blisters bandaged.” He knocked again. The face of an exasperated teenage girl pulled back the blind and pointed at the sign. She couldn’t see his reflection in the window but his voice was perfect for his story as he said, “Please, we’ve been walking all night. My phone is dead, and our car broke down a good 20 miles away. Please, can we use your phone? I need to call my brother to pick us up.” The girl looked at us through the glass then at me. It was obvious to her that I was in need. She put up a finger and slid the blinds down. We waited for a minute or so and then a middle aged man pulled back the curtain on the window. He looked at us, then unlocked the door.

Dean stepped in, ducking so I wouldn’t hit my head. “Thank you.” He said, then seeing a table and chairs carefully set me in one and collapsed in the next one. Being able to see his face Mary could tell how tired he actually was.

I turned to look at the baker and his daughter who was behind the counter. “Thank you! I was in a bad spot, and my cousin came to pick me up, but I had to leave quickly, then his car broke down. We’ve been walking all night.”

“Izzy, get them both a cup of coffee.” The baker said over his shoulder to the girl behind him who moved nearly out of sight behind a big machine. “You’ve been walking all night in those shoes?” he asked looking at the oversized rain boots.

She shrugged and looked at Dean like he was her favorite older brother. They were the only other shoes he had in the car, I was barefoot. Then when the blisters got bad, he carried me the last couple hours.” The baker was suitably impressed.

“Your phone is dead?”

Dean nodded. “If you have an iPhone charger, I’ll plug in and call my brother to come get us.”

“Sure, Izzy’s got one.” He went to his daughter, talked softly with her for a minute.

“Dean, what are you guys talking about?”

“Just roll with it. Trust me, till I see a newspaper and then when we are in a place to talk, I’ll explain.” He said and the exhaustion and pleading in his voice won me over.I nodded as the baker came back with two huge coffees in cardboard cups. I thanked him as he offered one to me. It was cardboard but waxy. What kind of twilight zone had she ended up in? There was something strange about the place but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“You were in trouble, do you need me to call the sheriff?”

“Nah, we’re good. Thanks, though.” Dean said taking his coffee. “I wasn’t paying much attention to the GPS when my phone died. What town is this?”

“Humbolt. Humbolt, South Dakota.” Dean’s head snapped up at that.

“How far is that from Sioux Falls?”

“Only about 30 minutes drive. Is that where you were heading?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a good friend there. Thanks.”

Izzy came back in and walking up to Dean gave him a cord with a boxy plug. He thanked her and spotting an outlet near him he reached over and plugged the boxy end into the wall, then pulling out his plastic box he stuck it on the other end of the cord and set it on the table between them. He looked at her, then shook his head slightly.

“While I’m waiting for it to charge, do you have some water and bandages, so I can help my cousin’s feet.”

“Of course, sorry honey. I need to get ready to open, I’ll send Izzy out with them in a few minutes.”

“Thanks.” They both said and watched him go.

She turned on him. “What is going on? How did I get to South Dakota?!” she was furious but she kept her voice in check.

“I think you got here the same way I did. What I have to tell you is going to be hard for you to hear. In fact, I think you might hate me for a while.” That did not bode well. “But I can say that things are not as bad as you are going to think they are initially.”

“What on earth does that mean?” If he hadn’t carried her at least five miles while walking through the night she would have smacked him.

“It means, everything has changed for you, and I guess for me too. But I promised when I saw today’s newspaper I’d explain everything when they come back I’ll ask if they’ve gotten the paper yet.” They sat in silence. Her trying not to brood, while he was solemn obviously thinking. Now that she could see him in good light, she could tell that he was handsome, even pretty, but he also wore the expression of one who has seen far too much. The survivor of a cruel war. She knew that look from a few members of her family, and from some of John’s friends as they had returned from the war.

Every once in a while he would pick up the plastic box squeeze it then put it back down. Each time he did so he was a little more annoyed than the time before. He played with the cord, wedging it tighter into the plastic box. He switched which outlet it was plugged into. A couple minutes later Izzy came over, with a bowl of steaming water, a box of bandaids and a tube of something. They thanked her, he moved the plug to yet another outlet and she started washing her feet. They were worse than she thought. Blisters on the bottom, on her toes and one large one on each heel. She finished just before they opened the shop and the ointment they had given her really did help to soothe the pain.

After a while, Dean gave up on his plastic box. She listened to him talk to the baker from her chair. “My phone isn’t picking up a charge. Can I borrow yours?”

“Yeah,” she watched as he pulled out his own plastic box, tapped it a few times then gave it to Dean. Who walked back to their table. A few early patrons had come, but only one had sat down to enjoy his coffee and a donut she had had the decency not to stare.

“Okay. I don’t have a newspaper yet. But there are a few things I’m going to tell you before I try to call my brother. That way you can work on processing them while I’m on the phone. 1) these,” he held up the plastic boxes, his own and the bakers, “are phones. No wires, no cables. Kinda similar to Star Trek.I’m going to use it to call my brother. Number 2, is a lot harder to swallow, I know because I’ve done it myself before, I know how stressful it can be. And it is hard but you know, you just have to roll with it. You know, just roll with it.”

“And what is it?” she asked

“Uh. Time travel is real, and you have come forward in time to the year 2016.” With that, he ducked his head and put the box up to his ear. She stared at him. He was crazy. Or she was crazy. Or this was the longest most realistic dream she had ever had, ever. She watched him, not saying anything. She was almost afraid to think.

“Hey, man it's me. I’m still alive. My phone is dead and my extras are back at the bunker. Call me at this number until 0700 Central.”

He studiously avoided looking up at her as he tapped the plastic box then put it back to his ear. He left the same message. Tapped the phone, left a message. He did that three more times and sighed.

“Dude, it’s me. I’m alive. You’re not picking up your phone. I’m calling you on my phones now. Pick up.” She watched as Dean’s face slowly morphed. It went from confident serious to too ashamed to look at her, too worried. His last message concerned her. “Dude, I’m alive but you’ve got me worried now, why aren’t you picking up your phones. This is the emergency phone, call Jody, I’m calling her next.”

He put the plastic box/phone down and he tapped it on the table. “Sam should have picked up. I’m worried.” He looked down at the plastic box/phone and tapped it a few times, then put it to his ear. She watched him with growing horror, as slowly what he had said earlier started to fall into place.

“Hi, can you transfer me to Sheriff Jody Mills in Sioux Falls?… Thank you…” he waited for a minute then continued. “Hi, I need to speak with Sheriff Mills… I understand that officer… yes, I do understand that, but I need to talk to her. She’ll want to talk to me, Tell her that Dean from the FBI is calling…” A long wait this time. “Jody? Yeah, it’s me… I know I can explain it all, everything’s fine now. Nah, the Darkness is gone…” In a tone that moved from exasperation to awkwardness he said “No, I didn’t kill her, she left. On vacation. With Chuck… I know, right! Listen, I’m guessing from your questions you haven’t heard from Sam, have you?… Okay, I’m in Humboldt, any chance you can come pick me up?… Ok thanks. Um, I’m not alone. Mary Winchester is with me…” she could hear a loud “What” come from the plastic box phone then the person on the other end, Jody? must have been talking for a while because there was a long pause with only uh-huh’s from Dean. “Yeah, I know… Yeah. Thanks. Hopefully just for the day… oh, and can you send her with a pair of flip flops? Mary’s feet are covered in blisters… uh huh. Yeah, thanks. See you later.”

Dean brought the phone down from his ear and tapped it once. He didn’t make eye contact, just pulled out his wallet and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. He put the wallet away and took the phone back to the baker. He gave him the hundred and returned. They sat in silence and a few minutes later Izzy came over with more coffee and a couple of scones and muffins.

She was halfway through nibbling her muffin when a guy came in and dropped three newspapers off at the counter. They looked at each other, then Dean stood, she could see that he was now getting stiff, but he walked over to the counter leafed through them, found he liked the second one and brought it back to their table. He unfolded it so the entire front page was visible then laid it out. It was a Star Tribune, the main newspaper in Minneapolis. How far away was that from here? She didn’t know. But the page confused her. Glancing at it was strange. The font was different that it had been a month ago. The lead article was about how the sun had been fading for two days then last night returned to normal. Names in the headlineswere all unfamiliar, Obama, ISIS, EU, BREXIT, what were all these things? Sure she didn’t read the paper regularly anymore but this was weird. Then Dean tapped the upper corner of the paper and her breath caught. It was not early November 1983. She had jumped ahead almost 33 years, 2016. Dean had been right.

She looked at him, then she started to cry. And cry. And cry. She cried as Dean tried to calm her. She cried as he gave her tissue, he cried as he slipped something on her feet and carried her out of the shop. She cried as he lifted her into a truck and she cried against his shoulder as someone drove the truck. And she kept crying as Dean carried her into a house, and placed her in a bed. And then she cried until she was too exhausted to do anything else but sleep.

 

 

 

~

 

She woke up in a bed, not her own bed. The room was filled with late afternoon light and she guessed that soon the sun would land on the bed next to her. Out the window, she could see trees and the roof of what must be the neighbor's house. Where was she? Looking around the room she realized that this was a teen girl’s room. A poster hung on the wall of a group of handsome men, vaguely she thought they were superheroes but she couldn’t tell. A few pictures sat in frames on the dresser, a brunette girl, and her boyfriend, the same girl with a blonde girland a brunette woman who was of an age to be her mother but looked nothing like her. Another picture of her with the blonde girl, this time in Halloween costumes the blonde looked annoyed, the brunette was enjoying the blonde girl’s displeasure. On the bedside table, a glass of water with mostly melted ice was waiting for her. Next to it was a bottle of Tylenol. The font and colors had changed but she recognized it for what it was, took four and drained the glass before sitting up all the way.

Her head felt heavy from the crying but at least it didn’t feel like it was going to split. She took a deep breath and tried to make sense of what had happened to her. She had appeared in a park in nothing but her nightgown. A man named Dean had assumedly magically appeared in the park as well. He knew her. He had known her father. He was a hunter and he knew that she had once been one too. They had been stranded in the middle of nowhere, found a bit of clothing for her and started walking. He wanted to get to know her but would hardly talk about himself saying, let him see a newspaper then he would tell her everything she wanted to know. Eventually, he had carried her for at least five miles and had hardly had to stop. They had gone to a bakery before it opened, he mentioned something about how he had time traveled before, then started making phone calls with a plastic box about the size of six little matchboxes taped together. He had called a dozen numbers looking for his brother who on the last voicemail he had called Sam. He mentioned a friend who lived nearby and called her to come pick them up. Then the paper had been delivered and they had read the front page. She had traveled in time more than 30 years.

This Twilight World adventure was real. She had started crying and Dean had led her to his friend’s truck, then into his friend’s house, then tucked her into bed. This bed. She was thirty years in the future and had no idea what had become of John, or her sons. Or did she? She thought back to Dean who she had met in the park. He looked familiar. He knew who she was. But he said he knew her father and that she was a hunter. She did some quick math and the age was about right, but how would he know she was a hunter? For that matter why hadn’t…. No, better to wait on that question until she was sure. Dean had called his brother Sam. Dean was a hunter. The hunter world was small. She silently prayed her deduction was wrong, even if it explained a few things.

Silently she got out of bed, on the chair was a pile of clothes. There were three sets of clothes, in three different sizes. She picked through them silently and mixed and matched until she found a pair of soft new socks, a pair of loved jeans that were too skinny in the leg to be quite comfortable, a bra that fit surprisingly well, and a tee shirt that hugged just enough to be flattering. The room was a little cool, so she put Dean’s jacket back on, felt the now familiar weight of the gun in the pocket and looked at the room again.

A bulletin board hung above the bed that she hadn’t noticed while laying in it. She was fairly confident that the room belonged to the brunette girl, and that the blonde girl and the brunette woman were her adoptive or foster family. They looked like they had been thrown together, but that it worked. One picture was candid, the Brunette woman was in a sheriff’s uniform laughing with Dean and an even taller man, as they sat at a dining room table. She must be the Sheriff friend that Dean had called, Jody. Then she had a scary thought, what if the Sheriff was Dean’s wife? She looked in all the pictures but never saw a ring on the woman’s finger, then reminded herself that even if this Dean was her Dean, what did it matter what she thought, especially if she had been gone for 30 years. Had she just disappeared one night? She tipped her head back to keep from crying again though she doubted she had any more tears left in her.

The most disarming part of the bulletin board was that there were enough ticket stubs and programs to confirm the newspaper. She really was in the future. Well, if she was in the future, there were only a few things she could think to do: 1) find out if this Dean was her Dean, 2) find John and 3) find Sammy. It was strange to think that everything she had worried about last week was now inconsequential and only her family mattered.

She pulled back her shoulders and silently opened the door. There was a hallway with doors off it that ended a few feet away into an open family room. She could hear someone writing in there and slowly, cautiously walked down the hall towards the sound. There at the table sat the brunette from the pictures. She was sitting at the table doing homework with a couple of textbooks and a notebook in front of her. At least that part of life hadn’t changed in 30 years.

The room was large, to the right was a living room area, to the left the girl doing homework and beyond that was a kitchen. It looked kind of modern with a futuristic twist which she immediately realized meant that it was probably fairly old. The girl looked up, saw Mary and smiled.

“You’re up! Join me. The others will be home in a few minutes and Jody is bringing home pizza.” Slowly, somewhat cautiously Mary sat opposite the girl trying to take everything in.

“I’m Alex. You’re Mary, right? Dean is still asleep. He said that he found you in a park after he saved the world.” That took her aback.

“He said he saved the world?”

She laughed, she was a beautiful girl. “Well, he didn’t say that, but I could read between the lines, and he didn’t know I was listening to him talk to Jody. Remember, how the sun was basically dying yesterday, well apparently that was because the Darkness, Amara, was killing her brother, Chuck, who is apparently God.” Mary must have made a face because Alex smiled again and commented on her own story. “I know right? Who knew God has family, let alone that he comes to earth to be Chuck of all people. Anyways, apparently Dean played family counselor and now the two have gone on vacation.” Mary stared at the girl who finally squirmed a little in her seat.

“Um, you do know about all this stuff. Dean said you were raised a hunter, right?”

Mary swallowed. “Yeah, I was. But I stopped being a hunter when I was a little more than your age.”

“Oh. Yeah, I never really got the hunter vibe either. I just want a normal life, if I can have one.”

Mary suddenly felt like she had found a kindred spirit. “Were you raised as a hunter?”

Alex burst out laughing. “NO! Obviously, Dean didn’t tell you about me. Um. Well. Since I kinda of brought up the topic… I was kidnapped by vampires when I was little, and raised to lure food for them. I guess what kept me alive was that I was good at that. But then I ran into Jody, who introduced me to Sam and Dean and they got me out. Killed my whole nest, except the one that came back a few months ago and tried to kill me, Claire and Jody. But again, the Winchesters saved the day.” Mary felt like she had been slapped. She stood abruptly, almost knocking over her chair and walked away. She took deep breaths and leaned against the kitchen island.

Dean is her son. Sam is her baby Sammy. They were hunters. It took all her strength not to cry again. She had her sons. But they were no longer her little boys. They were older than she was! Taking a deep breath she turned back around.

“Dean and Sammy Winchester saved your life?”

Alex looked a mix between scared and worried. “Yeah, a couple of times now. They’re good guys. But I’ve never heard anyone but Dean call Sam Sammy. How do you know them?”

“Uh, its… complicated. But I’ve known them their whole lives.” Alex made a slight face as she could see that obviously, she looked younger than Dean.

“Okay… um. Yeah.” A buzzing on the table and Alex looked at a pink plastic box, similar to what Dean had called a phone at the bakery. “Uh, Claire has to finish her internship at the sheriff’s office so she’ll be late.”

“Who is Claire? The blonde girl in the pictures in your room?” Alex perked up a bit as a safer topic came up.

“Yeah, Claire Novak. She moved in with Jody and me a while back. Her dad died as Castiel’s host, so he tries to look after her from time to time. Her mother died a couple years back and she had a hard couple of years. Then one day Cas, Sam and Dean sent her here. I don’t know how much you know, but Claire is learning to be a hunter. She definitely has the hunter bug.”

Mary came back to the table and sat back down, pushing all of her emotions down. She could deal with them later, but it would be easier to deal with them if she knew more about what was going on. “Dean mentioned Castiel last night, who is he?”

“Castiel’s an angel. He’s the one that brought Dean back from hell.” Well there went the emotions. She bit her lip and tilted her head back again to prevent tears. Alex didn’t move.

“So, angels are real?” she finally asked, not looking at Alex.

“Yes. I think- I think I should stop talking now. Um, do you need anything?”

Mary wanted to say yes. She wanted to say she needed her babies to be babies, not hunters. She wanted to say she needed the world to rewind thirty years. She wanted to say she hated the whole hunter life and everything it entailed, but she just shook her head.

They were both spared the awkwardness of their situation when they could hear a vehicle pull up to the garage. “That’s Jody, I better help with the pizza.” And Alex was out the door. Mary sat there, pulling herself together, avoiding her fears and trying to come back to the present, which just happened to be thirty years after her yesterday.

 

 

~

 

Alex came in carrying five large pizza boxes, and the sheriff, Jody, came in after her carrying a couple of plastic bags and a messenger bag of sorts over one shoulder. She kicked the door shut behind her and smiled at Mary.

“Mary. I’m glad to see you up. I hope you slept well.” In real life, Mary could tell that Jody was probably in her forties, not Dean’s wife then, probably.

“Thanks, it was blissfully dreamless. Thank you for letting us come here.” Jody walked in and set the bags on the kitchen island as Alex started setting the table.

“Of course! Those boys, Dean and his brother, have saved my bacon too many times to count. Been there for the good and the bad times. If they ever need help, I’m there. “

“Thank you. It’s good to know that they have friends like you.” She tried to focus on the good things right now, like the fact her boys were friends with someone who was so obviously genuine. “Can I help you?”

“Nah, I’ve got this. Stay off your feet, Dean said they got pretty beat up when you were walking.”Mary watched as Jody and Alex worked to set the table and make a quick salad. She stood and distribute food on the table as Alex brought things over.

“Why so much pizza?” she finally asked. This time Jody laughed.

“Try feeding two teenage girls, plus us and Dean. Dean could probably eat half of this on his own if we let him.” Jody paused for a second then decided to go ahead and say what she was thinking. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him crash like that. He was so wound up I couldn’t get him to go to sleep until after lunch, then he was out. I don’t think he even heard me leave. We’ll let him sleep as long as he can, then he can finish off whatever we don’t eat.”

A minute later they heard another car in the driveway and a few minutes later Claire came in. She was dressed in business slacks and a button down blouse, her hair pulled back into a bun at the back of her head. She looked very professional, until she saw Mary, opened her mouth and swore like a sailor.

Again Mary didn’t know what to do. Fortunately, Jody did, from the kitchen she called out, “Claire, I don’t care what you hear people say at work you will not use that language in this house.”

“Sorry Jody.” She turned, shut the door carefully and turned back. “Jody said Dean had brought someone over this morning after I’d left for work but… you! I mean, I never would have guessed it would be you. It is you isn’t it?” Mary blushed. “You are who I think you are right?” in her periphery Mary saw Alex looking from Claire to Mary and back again in confusion.

“Who do you think- no. Yes, I am.” Before Mary knew what was happening Claire was crying and had wrapped her arms around Mary. She was confused and looked to Jody and Alex. Alex looked dumbfounded and Jody was fighting back her own tears. She looked slightly down at the girl who was squeezing her when Claire looked up.

“Dean has missed you so much. He never says anything, but, but I once saw a picture of you, Dean and his Dad, slipped in his Dad’s journal. The edges were well worn. He misses you so much.” She whispered then cried in her shoulder again. Mary cried too, and they held each other for a long time, crying, comforting each other.

 

 

 

~

 

 

Dinner was beautifully mundane. Jody had asked Alex about school. Alex was apparently a senior and a social butterfly. Then she and Claire had talked about work at the precinct and Jody gave Claire advice that Mary thought the girl would actually follow.

Alex had then taken a car to go see her new boyfriend and shortly after dinner cleanup Jody was called to a crime scene and promised to be back as soon as she could. So Claire and Mary found themselves sitting on the couch not sure what to do. The sun had gone down and Mary was trying to avoid her emotions.

After a few minutes of silence, Claire said, “I’m sorry I cried on you like that. I guess I’ve just always connected with Dean for having lost you. He was there when I lost my mother. Then to see you back. It made me so sad for me and so happy for him. I can’t imagine how happy he must have been.”

“Did Dean ever tell you about me?” Mary asked trying not to sound as cautious as she felt.

“No, but I asked Jody after I came here. She didn’t know the whole story but well, I guess you know it better than I do.”

“Would you please tell me? I want to know what others know about me.” She was amazed at how afraid she was to ask the question.

“Okay. Well, Dean was four, Sam was a baby when the yellow-eyed demon came to your home.” Mary’s heart stopped for a moment. Then pounded like she was running a marathon. Mary knew what demon Claire was referring to. “The demon was the King of Hell. He cursed Sam or something, Jody was unclear on that. Then when you found him in your home, he killed you. From how Jody said it, I think Dean may have seen you burning.” In her mind, she was looking down on Sammy’s nursery filled with flames. “His Dad handed Sam to him and told him to run as fast as he could. Their Dad made it out of the house, you didn’t. Most of the top floor burned away.” Mary remembered the yellow eyed demon. She remembered the deal she had made for John, she remembered her father’s dead body. And she remembered Dean. A few years younger than he was now, but she remembered him. He was the hunter who had been in town for a few days before her father had died. He had been weird, but she had just brushed it away since most hunters had their quirks.

Her son had been there. Was that what he meant when he said he had traveled through time? She had so many questions. She had died? Murdered by the yellow-eyed demon, the King of Hell? The worst part of it all was that this actually made a type of sense. In the weird twisted world of hunters, this made sense.

“So I’ve been dead for thirty years?” she asked quietly.

Claire looked at her eyes full of concern. “You, you didn’t remember?”

“I, remember that day, and when you said burning, I sort of remember that, but no. I don’t remember dying.” They sat in silence for a long time.

Finally, Mary asked, “Which room is Dean in?” Claire got up and showed Mary to the bedroom on the other side of the hall from Alex’s.

“In my room. I’m going to grab my book, then I’ll leave you.” Claire silently opened the bedroom door reached into the dark room, pulled out a book and stepped away.

“Do you have a night light or something? I don’t want to run into anything in the dark.” Mary whispered. Claire smiled, reached around another doorway into a bathroom, unplugged the night light, snuck into her room, plugged it in and snuck out.

"Thanks” Hesitantly, Mary entered the room and shut the door behind her. A chair sat in a corner and she pulled it up to one side of the bed. Dean was asleep, laying on his stomach, hands under his pillow, his face towards her. He lay diagonally across the bed, but his feet still hung off the end and a throw blanket wasonly half on him.

She leaned forward and looked at his sleeping face. She could see it. Hidden in his careworn features she could see the little boy that had always been so sweet. He had been a loving boy, who had despite his penchant for doing things he shouldn’t have, had always tried to be obedient. Plus, he had always been a momma’s boy and she had always loved that about him.

“My little boy.” She whispered. Last night she had kissed his bruised shin better when she tucked him in. Tonight he lay asleep, a full grown man, who had walked most of the night before, spending half of that carrying her. His solicitousness from the night before made sense. She was his mother and he wanted to protect her. He had always been a protector, of Sammy, of their family, of little animals when other children teased them.

He was a protector. He had saved Jody ‘more times that I can count’, he had saved Claire and Alex at least twice each. He had apparently saved the world yesterday. What did that mean? All of that talk about some woman and God’s family. It didn’t make sense.

But her little boys had grown up without their mother. Where was John? She had been afraid to ask Jody, though she guessed that the woman knew. This morning Dean had been calling Sam, her Sammy, but he hadn’t ever picked up. Why was it that everyone referred to her sons as Sam and Dean when Dean was older? Shouldn’t it be Dean and Sam, like how she thought of them? And if everyone referred to them as a them, why was it Dean had saved the world, not Dean and Sam?

Her stomach was roiling in knots. Finally, she reached out and pulled the blanket so it covered him evenly and softly, hardly touching him, she caressed the side of his face. He had tensed when she moved the blanket and touched his face but then relaxed as she caressed his cheek again. After a third time, she finally stopped, leaned back in the chair and watched her grown son sleep while quietly singing to herself over and over,

“ Hey Jude, don't make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better…

 

~

 

Cas woke up in a field of wildflowers. It took him a minute to orient himself before he realized he was in heaven. That was not a good place for him to be. The other angels weren’t all that kindly disposed towards him right now. And they were probably confused and upset that he got to talk with Chuck even though Chuck didn’t bother to visit them in heaven before he died. No, he needed to get out of heaven asap. He would go to the bunker. Sam! He had been with Sam at the bunker, Dean was dead. He had promised Dean to look out for Sam but that woman had been there, had banished him.

He could feel the effect of the banishment still upon him. But it was strange, he felt more powerful than he had in a long time. He stretched his wings then looked at them. They were full, no more molting. They were strong, thick, and shiny. He snapped them open and shut a few times because it felt so good. He flapped and started upwards until something bit into his ankles. Shackles hung from his ankles and led down into the ground. Even though he felt at full power, as if his grace was fully restored, if he couldn’t fly in heaven then he certainly couldn’t teleport himself back to the bunker. He dropped the few feet to the ground and began walking he would have to find a door.

 

 

~

 

She woke in the morning to the sun on her face. Putting up a hand, she looked out the window and could see that the sun had just barely climbed above the tree line, it was probably what had woken her. She was curled up in the chair with the blanket she had pulled over Dean now over her. Dean! She looked at the bed and it was empty, the comforter still mussed from Dean having slept on it. Dean, her adult son. She hid her face in her hands for a moment then promised herself she would make it through the day without crying for herself. She could do that. She would do that. She would be serene today. She stood and folded the blanket, setting it on the edge of the bed and cracked open the door.

The smell of coffee wafted into her nostrils and she knew people were up. Then she heard voices. They were soft and muffled but one was male, Dean? And the other female, more mature, Jody? There was no sign of the girls in the main room and she could see Dean and Jody through a sliding screen door as they sat on the bench on the front porch. She went to the kitchen and silently poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot. At least those hadn’t changed much, and she sipped her coffee. The wind changed and she could hear Dean and Jody’s voices clearly.

“Jody, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I mean, Mom is back. Is she back for good? I think so, I think it’s really her. I mean Amara was grateful to me and she is the one who sent Mom back. But it’s Amara. I tried a few more tests while she slept. No reaction from a half dozen things touching her arm than her sleepily batting them away. I mean it is her. But now what do I do?”

There was silence for a moment then Dean started to talk again. “How do I tell her that I’m her son? How do I tell that she was murdered? Or that Dad died to save me?” Mary caught her breath at that. “How do I tell her about how we nearly ended the world, multiple times. And I’m not talking figuratively, we literally almost ended the world.

“The world as most people know it has changed so much in the past couple decades then to explain, oh yeah, demons can be killed, I’ve lost track of how many I’ve killed. Oh and you can kill angels too, if you have an Angel blade. Yeah, remember how you used to say angels were watching over you. Well, yeah, that was literal.

“And thats just the basics! How do I tell her about Sam, or hell or purgatory or time travel, or the visit the angels wiped from her memory. Or about demon blood or leviathan or the Mother. How about Amara, or Crowley, or Sam and me being vessels and legacies?”

He was quiet for a moment. “How do I tell her all of this, tell her of my life when my life is what she hated. What she left, so that Sammy and I wouldn’t grow up in it. So that this wouldn’t be our lives?”

Jody tried to say something but Dean kept talking.

“Jody, what do I do with her? I’m worried about Sam. He thinks I’m dead, but I can’t contact him. I need to check on him, but have no vehicle, am a couple states away and I have to take care of Mom, and I don’t know how to do that.” He put his head down and stared into his cup.

Jody had watched him, sipping her cup occasionally. “I don’t know Dean. But. For the past day, I’ve been wondering, what if it was Sean or Owen who came back?”

“Jody-“

She cut him off. “I know, I never talk about them. But I’ve been thinking. To have either of them back and for them not to remember the pain of their deaths, that is a beautiful thing. She is going to be in a lot of pain, it could change to anger it might not. But eventually, she is going to need to build a new life. As a hunter or civilian that is her choice and you cannot influence her. I walk a fine line between the two, but most people can’t, life doesn’t give them that opportunity. This could be a chance for you to get out of the game again. Maybe you could find Lis-“ Dean stood abruptly bumping his mug off the arm of the chair and had walked three feet away before the mug even hit the ground.He turned to look at it and caught sight of Mary. His jaw dropped a fraction and for an instant, she could see him last week, as a little boy when he had been astounded and so sad when a friend had told him that in the comics Superman was murdered.

He looked at her, and she tried not to move. She would be serene today. She would take everything life dished her and she would live in her new present and leave her emotions to be processed when there wasn’t so much to learn and get used to.

Jody had seen Dean’s deer in the headlights face and looked to the kitchen and saw Mary as well. Jody was the first to react. “Dean, go say good morning to your Mom, then clean this up. I have to get ready for work.” And with that Jody slipped in the house and down the hallway to the last room.

Dean came in, brushed his socked feet on the mat and came towards her. “Good morning mom.” He said.

“Dean. “ She said and opened her arms. He came to her and nearly crushed her with his hug. They held each other for a long time. Both wondering how this would work out. Eventually, they let go of each other and shyly he turned to the kitchen, picked up the paper towels and walked back out to the porch. Mary stood there, wiping her tears till she recognized a box of tissues and was able to clean herself up a bit. She heard him come back in and turned to follow him to the trash can under the sink. He held the cabinet door open for her tissue.

“So, so I guess you heard some of that.” He couldn’t look her in the eye. As she had last week, she reached out and touched his cheek, lifting his face to look at hers.

“I did. And I have a million questions. But first I have two questions. One, when are you going to take me to Sam? And two, do we-“ her voice quivered and she took a moment to collect herself. “do we visit your father’s grave on the way or after?”

Deans' face fell and his voice cracked as he said, “It’s on the way.” She felt like her heart had been wrenched from her chest. She couldn’t breathe.

“Mom? Mom?” Deans' face swam before her and she felt her knees go weak before strong arms picked her up and laid her on the couch. She had to breathe, breathe, breathe. She looked up and saw Dean hovering, horror and fear etched on his face. 

“Im okay.” She said shakily. “I’m Okay. It’s just-no, I’m okay.” She looked up at Dean and could see John in him. See his love, and desire to protect, always protect. “Can you get me a glass of water?” Dean was gone and she slowly sat up. She could do this. She would do this. Before she was ready for him, Dean was back with a glass of cold water in hand. She took and sipped it. She sipped again trying to regain her calm. Then she looked back at Dean and something in her changed. Something inside became hard, solid, something she could rely on.

“I really am okay now.” She touched his cheek, but with a short beard, it was not like the soft child’s cheek she had touched two days ago and her hand dropped. “Let's have breakfast. Do you still like pancakes?”

Dean offered a hand to help her stand, “Yes.”

“Good, lets see what Jody has in her kitchen and we’ll make some for everyone.” Cooking was something she could do. For a hunter, Dean was surprisingly helpful in the kitchen. He was able to find all the dry ingredients and bowls while she investigated the fridge. The leftover pizza was gone and she assumed that Dean must have gotten up after she had fallen asleep and finished it off. She pulled out milk, butter, eggs and two lemons and placed them on the counter.

She measured the dry ingredients and he put them in the bowl. “What is the lemon for?” he asked.

With a smile, she started grating the lemon. “Your grandma Campbell’s secret ingredient. Whenever we had one, I’d add some to your pancakes too.” Dean chuckled.

“What?” she asked.

“Well, for a while I was making pancakes twice a week, and I could never figure out why they never came out like how I remembered yours.” She smiled.

“Well, now you know. Zest about a quarter of a large lemon for each person eating.” They continued cooking and the smell of pancakes and coffee started to fill the house, as they chatted about nothings. The time: now 6am. How to flip a pancake to perfection: they each had their own method that worked, that the other could not replicate. How hungry were teen girls in the morning: They weren’t really sure but Mary had been surprised at how much Alex had eaten and Dean said that Claire could easily eat as much as Alex. So they kept flipping jacks as they heard bodies moving in the bedrooms. They had started eating the first few as they came off the pan and just stood with their plates next to the stovetop.

Every once in a while, she could see a zombie-like form go into the bathroom and come out with a towel on its head. Claire, still in pajamas was the first to come out. “Morning.” She said and headed straight to the coffee maker and poured herself a cup.

“Good Morning Claire.” She said as Dean said “Morning!” in a chipper voice. Claire gave Dean a death stare and just sipped her coffee.

“Woah, cranky pants. Go over there to sulk until the coffee has kicked in.” And he pointed to the table with a spatula. Claire kept glowering but did as she was told and pulled her knees up to her chest to rest her cup on them as she slowly sipped.

She swatted Dean’s arm, “Is that any way to talk to the young lady?”

“Mom, you don’t know that one like I do. Give her some time and she’ll be pleasant enough if she wants to be.” Lifting his voice so it was directed at Claire he said. “Only polite people get to eat these pancakes.”

Claire mumbled something into her cup as a chipper and beautiful Alex came out of the hall. “Does that mean that I can have some?” she asked.

“Sure,” Dean said and started building a small pile on a plate.

Alex turned to Mary, “Good morning, uh, what do I call you? Mrs. Winchester?” Mary’s heart broke a little thinking of her married name.

“Just call me Mary.”

“Okay, thanks, Mary, thanks, Dean.” She made a look at Claire and said, “It’s not that hard to be nice in the morning, but if you don’t want to be late for your internship, you better go shower.” Claire mumbled and took her coffee with her down the hall.

“Alex, is she always like that?” Mary asked.

“Most mornings, irony being she is usually the one who makes breakfast.” She took a bite and spoke through her full mouth, “Wow, these are really good, what’s different?”

Mary was about to speak when Dean said, “Secret family ingredient. Graduate college and I’ll tell you.” And with a wink to her he turned to flip the latest pancakes. She looked from one to the other. Alex was eating her pancakes and Dean was flipping more pancakes on the frying pan.

Here was a hunter jokingly bribing a girl raised by vampires to finish college. She was pretty sure her uncle was the only born hunter she knew of to graduate college, and the only other college graduate hunters had come to hunting later in their lives. She turned to the pan and quietly asked Dean a question.

“You want her to be an educated hunter.” He looked up at her, slightly wary by the question.

“Educated yes. Hunter? No, not really. I think she would be good at it, but no. She got out. She knows enough to stay safe and when to call for help. She doesn’t want to be involved with the supernatural world. They took her childhood, she wants and deserves some normalcy.” He looked at her, and whatever was on her face seemed to tell him that he had answered correctly because he turned his attention back to the pancakes.

She picked at her pancakes as she thought. Her son, who had become a hunter (had one of her cousins taught him? She would have to ask about that), a good hunter, also knew somehow that when people get out, they could stay out. That he wouldn’t have learned from any hunters she knew. She would have to think about this more.

“You done?” his voice broke into her thoughts and she looked up to see Dean offering to take her plate. She gave it to him with a thanks, then suddenly turned to Alex.

“Alex?” Alex looked up after having just taken a huge bite of pancake. She made a muffled ‘huh’ sound and began chewing. “That picture of Jody and Dean on your bulletin board. Is Sam the other man in it?”

Alex thought for a second then nodded, and swallowed. “Yup. I took it last time they were here.” Mary was across the room, down the hall, and on Alex’s bed in a matter of seconds, staring at the picture. Not even hearing Dean’s question of “What picture?”

Sam was taller, his hair long, past his collar and almost to his shoulders. His neck was thicker and his face more square than Dean’s. Dean’s body was more like John’s, but Sam’s face was more similar to John’s. She looked from Dean to Sam in the picture. They looked happy, carefree, strong. They were both dressed in jeans and plaid and canvas jackets. Was that still the unofficial uniform of a hunter, or did they just like it? She heard someone enter the room and turned to see Dean, he went to the far side of the bed and put one knee up on it to lean over and see. His eyes darted around the board until she pointed at the picture.

He smiled. “I remember that day. I hadn’t realized Alex had taken a picture.” He looked at her and she couldn’t read what was in his thoughts. “Do you want to see more pictures of us?”

Her face lit up, “Yes! You have some with you?” he smiled, pulled out his plastic box phone then frowned.

“Well, if this thing wasn’t dead I would.” He looked around the room and walked over to Alex’s dresser. On top sat a very thin decorative box that hadn’t been there yesterday when she had slept in the room. He picked it up and opened it. Hinged inside was a shiny piece of black plastic and below that, the flattest, smallest keyboard she had ever seen.

He touched a key and the shiny black plastic lit up. He moved a finger in a rectangle below the keyboard, tapped it a few times, and the screen changed. After a moment he looked at her. “Sorry, this is a laptop, you know uh, what did you call them then, personal computers, thats it. This is the future of personal computers. You can carry it around with you and access all kinds of things.”

She stood next to him as he continued to click and type. She was mesmerized by the screen. It was in color. There were pictures, not just text. The screen was as thin as a notebook. There were no cords. This was a personal computer?

“What are you doing?” she finally asked.

He looked up at that seeming to realize that he had to do more explanations. “Uh, the internet. It's like, it's like… a root system. The trees are all laptops, and we can't see how they are connected but their roots are all connected. Laptops are connected through something called the internet. I don’t know how it really works, but it does. So think of it this way, I saved a bunch of pictures in some tree roots in Kansas, and I can use a laptop here to have those pictures brought along the roots to us here without anyone else seeing them.”

It made sense in a nebulous way and she let it go. After a moment more he said.

“Here. This folder has pictures of us. I put copies of them all on here after they were almost destroyed about a year ago. Just click here to make them big, then here to move on. I’ve put them in folders roughly by year. See…” he explained how to navigate through the folders then handed the laptop to her. She started with the folder ’1970’s’ and clicked through pictures of her and John, dating, their wedding, and after, then baby Dean. She opened 1980-1985 and started clicking. She was going to go chronologically to see the lives of her sons.

When she came out of the room, the house was empty. A note was perched on the table. It said, “Mom.” She picked it up. A neat but masculine hand had written.

“I didn’t want to disturb you. Jody put some clean clothes and a towel in the bathroom. Wash up and I’ll be back in a few. We’ll run to the store, pick you up a few things then hit the road. Love, Dean.”

 

 

 

Part 2

 

They had spent two hours at Target and then the next two hours after that in a beat up old (from the 1990’s) car with Dean explaining smartphones, the internet (again), digital music as opposed to records or cassette tapes, and current fashion. She had a feeling her son was more interested in what was under a woman’s clothes than what women were actually wearing but she didn’t say anything about that. After Dean downed a water bottle they fell silent, listening to Simon and Garfunkel, at least he had some decent music.

She watched the land pass as they drove, 33 years and farms still looked like farms, fields and trees like fields and trees. It was people that had changed. And cars. They were so rounded and big. Every other car looked like some type of luxury jeep.

A shrub with red foliage passed and she shivered, something about it waving in a prairie wind reminded her of the flicker flashlight from her first night here and they both reminded her of the flames in Sammy’s room.

“You okay, Mom?” Dean was looking at her with concern only flicking his eyes back to the road now and again until she spoke.

“I’m fine.” She sat is silence. “Twice I’ve seen things that remind me of something terrible, but I can’t actually remember the terrible event.” Dean readjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “Dean?”

“What were the triggers for the forgotten memory?” he asked as if pulling his own teeth. He knew something, or at least thought he did.

Looking at him steadily so as not to miss a reaction she said calmly, “The first night, when you were hunting for clothes for me inside the shed. The flashlight was flickering and causing strange shadows.” His grip on the wheel tightened. “And just now, I saw a red bush waving in the wind.” When his jaw clenched but he didn’t say anything she asked. “What do you think I’m trying to remember?” She wondered what he would say. Did he know that she knew she had been murdered?

Dean was silent for a long time, but she let him stew. That was one thing about Dean, if you sat in silence long enough he always told her the truth, it was the immediate response you had to question the truth of.

In a quiet voice he said, “I think you are trying to remember your death.”

“Oh, the yellow eyed demon.” That got a reaction and he looked at her. If the conversation hadn’t been so serious his look of shock would have made her laugh.

“So you remember?”

“Only a tiny bit. Claire told me the very little she knows when I asked. So it was the yellow eyed demon?”

“Yes.” Dean said quietly.

“And you were there, in 1973, when my parents died and I made the deal?”

“I was.”

“Dean, how was adult you, there in 1973?”

“An angel.”

“Dean, angels don’t exist.”

“I used to think that too. But they do and most of them are dumba- I mean twits. Cas is cool though.”

“I’m going to ask you about Cas later, but why were you there?”

“I was sent by an angel and told to ‘stop it’. I had no idea what ‘it’ was, but then I saw Dad, followed him, saw you. That's when you found me behind the restaurant when you were on your date. I had to pretend to be just a hunter. I couldn’t tell you I was your son. That would be like well, like you coming to the future and you telling me you’re my Mom. Anyways, you may not know this, it was when we were at your friend’s house that yellow eyes came back and took over Samuel. When I got back with the Colt, I told Samuel about you, how yellow eyes would kill you in 1983. Before I could use the Colt he had me pinned to the wall. I watched yellow eyes stab Samuel and kill Deanna.” Dean paused here for a moment before continuing. “When it released me I followed him. I got there in time to see you make the deal, watch John get up and Samuel to fall, then the angel snapped me back to my own time, 2008.”

Now it was Mary’s turn be quiet for a while.

“I wondered about who you were, where you had disappeared to. If I hadn’t had John, I probably would have hunted you down.” After a few minutes of ‘Bridge over Troubled Water’ she continued. “He had snapped John’s neck. He brought John back if I let him come to my house ten years from that night… I guess he came, huh?”

“Yeah, he came.”

“Dean, I remember that day clearly. For me it was only the day before yesterday, but the only thing I can remember about that night is some flames.” Dean flinched at that. She waited and knew that if she waited long enough he would tell her.

Three songs later he spoke as if every words was 1000 pounds. “Dad had fallen asleep watching his game. He heard you scream, and ran upstairs. The door to Sammy’s nursery was open and he went in. Blood was dripping on Sam’s pillow and he saw you pinned to the ceiling, dying. Somewhere in there I woke up and walked towards the sound. You burst into flames, Dad put Sammy in my arms and told me to run. I did. We were halfway across the lawn when he picked us up and ran across the street with us.”

She was shaking and pulled Dean’s canvas jacket that she hadn’t ever given back tighter around her. His face was a battle of stoicism and anguish. She had to be strong. She had to understand.

“Is that when your Dad became a hunter?”

“It took a while, but he learned the truth about the supernatural. After that, he spent the rest of his life hunting yellow eyes.” She couldn’t help the tears that spilled down her cheeks now.

“What happened to him?” Dean didn’t speak, but pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped. Without looking at her he told John’s story.

“John was devastated after you died. He knew something supernatural had killed you but he had no reference point for it. It was tearing him up. After a year or two, I can’t really remember, he found out the truth. He wanted us to be able to protect ourselves so he raised us as hunters. I don’t think he could have survived if anything had happened to one of us. Around 2005, he caught yellow eye’s trail. In 2006, he tried to kill yellow eyes with the Colt. Yellow eyes tried to kill us.I was in a coma, a vegetable. I don’t remember it really, but a reaper came for me. Dad made a deal, his life for mine then he was gone.

“Sam and I hunted Yellow Eyes. We modified the Colt, got a demon killing blade, learned exorcisms. Yellow Eyes’ long game had been to open a devil’s gate, then the Seals on Lucifer’s cage. He managed to have the devil’s gate opened, as souls and demons flew out, so did Dad. He fought Yellow Eyes and kept him still long enough for me to shoot him with the Colt. Then Dad went to Heaven.”

Dean drank another water bottle then pulled the car out onto the freeway.

“Thank you for telling me.” Mary looked out the window and tried to imagine it. Her honest, strong John, heartbroken. Not being able to explain what had happened to his wife. Suddenly alone in raising their sons, one a little boy, the other still a baby. She could see him turning from father to warrior, she had seen her own father flip that switch countless times. She wanted to ask if he was ever happy, if he had ever found joy but she knew the answer to that and that hurt more than anything else.

So her boys had grown up on a revenge mission. A few more tears squeezed out. “What happened after you killed Yellow Eyes?” So Dean told her about shifters and his ‘death’, about run-ins with the law, about zombies, werewolves, Bobby, the Harvelles, and Bela. He very briefly explained angels, the apocalypse, Lucifer and Michael wanting to battle using him and Sam as meat suits, and them locking both Lucifer and Michael in the cage.

She could tell how uncomfortable it was for Dean to talk about himself. She supposed that as a hunter he rarely had need to. She could tell that he had left out large chunks and she guessed that those parts were the parts that showed both his best and worst sides. They stopped for gas and food and were back on the road in twenty minutes.

Dean insisted on driving, which while unnecessary was cute and they kept going. She looked for the road atlas, and was turning to check the back seat for it when Dean asked, “What are you looking for?”

“The Atlas. I want to look up which turns we need to take when we get to Kansas City.”

“It’s okay Mom. We don’t have an Atlas. I know which roads to take, and even if I didn’t my new phone has maps on it.” So he explained about GPS and she couldn’t decide if she felt impressed at the technology or like a fool for not knowing any of this. To distract herself from ugly feelings, she asked, “What happened after you locked Michael and Lucifer in the cage? Was that recently?”

“Uh, no. That was around 2009 or 2010. Uh, after that I took a break from hunting for a bit. A Djinn showed up, followed by Sam and a bunch of Campbells.” At this she looked over at him.

“I suppose, John never knew I was a hunter then?”

“No. The only reason Sam and I knew was because of freakin time travel. Sam had run into them hunting but some weird things happened when the cage was locked. Monsters started acting weird, and a few people came back to life.”

“What do you mean came back to life?” This was interesting.

“I hadn’t thought about this till now, but kind of like you. I heard about others but the only one I ever met was Samuel Campbell, your dad.”

“Dad’s alive?” her heart was pounding with what she knew was unreasonable hope and immediately dashed again by Dean’s, “No.”

In a terse voice he said, “We hunted monsters for a while with him, parted ways and later he and the other Campbells were killed hunting.” He was quiet for a moment to let it sink in. “I thought you should know. The entire time I knew him you were always on his mind.”

She took a few minutes more before saying, “Go on, what was next?”

“Well, we fought a bunch of monster’s we’d never seen before. I killed a dragon. And then Purgatory, Hell and Heaven had a little war over souls. Do you know that souls are what give each their power?”

She smiled, “Yeah, I knew that. I’m guessing since the world is relatively intact that Heaven won?”

“Eh, more like they all lost. Then we fought Leviathan, think shapeshifting cannibals that are impossible to kill. We tried to close the gates of Hell forever, but that failed. So, what was next? Oh. Have you heard of the Men of Letters?”

Listening to Dean she didn’t think much could surprise her but this did. “What do they have to do with you?”

“So you have heard of them?”

“Yeah, my Mom used to tell me stories about them. But they were killed off, when?” she tapped her chin as she thought, “the fifties? Their numbers shrank during World War II, and they never recovered.”

“Heh, well… it turns out that Henry Winchester, Dad’s Dad, was one.” Mary stared at her son in shock.

“What do you mean Henry Winchester was a Man of Letters?”

“Just that he was. They were wiped out by the last Knight of Hell, Abaddon. Henry managed to tap his soul to travel forward in time in order to protect a key.”

“Back up. Henry was a Man of Letters?”

“Yeah.” Now Dean looked back over at her.

“Is he still alive?” her heart was still until Dean answered.

“No, he died shortly after getting to our time, saving Sam from Abaddon.”

“Stop the car.” She leaned forward with one hand on the dash.

“Wha-“

“Stop the car, now!” She felt the car slow, felt the bumps as it moved onto the shoulder then before if came to a full stop she flung open the door, fell out of the car and landed on hands and knees and retched into the grass. She sobbed as she retched trembling at the meaning of what Dean had said. When she was done she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and leaned back against the car trying to breath. Dean was next to her with a box of tissues and a bottle of water.

Once she had cleaned up she just sat there, staring off across a field. Dean was quiet, not saying a word, just sitting next to her, waiting. She couldn’t look at him so she looked at her hands, they were still trembling so she clasped them. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” She abruptly stood and started walking. She walked across the field to some trees separating two wheat fields.

She walked to the far side of the trees, could no long see Dean standing by the blue car and kicked the closest tree. She took off Dean’s jacket, gently placed the gun on the ground a few feet away then wrapped her fists in opposite ends of the jacket and with the closest tree more than a foot in diameter began a boxing match. She hit hard and wrapped hands or not, it hurt. But it was a pain that she could control.

When her emotions were under control she looked down at her fists and realized that she had tattered Deans jacket. She unwrapped her hands and while she could tell there would be a bruise and scab or two. She picked up the gun, put it in the back of her waistband, covered it with her shirt and walked back to the car.

Dean had been leaning against the hood. He had pulled the car up closer to the break in the fields so she wouldn’t have to cross the field again. He was cute. But he would have to be more than cute to- no. She would not let anger control her. Obviously, he was more than cute or he wouldn’t have survived what he did. From his descriptions either he was a really lucky side character, or he had avoided talking about been in the heat of the battle.

At the car Dean opened the passenger door and she got in. When he got in, they didn’t say anything and Dean started driving again.

  


 

~

 

“You’re phone has GP-Tess right?”

“GPS, yeah.” Dean was just like his child self, anxious to please, if it would avoid the awkwardness they had been sitting in for over an hour.

“Does it also have this inter-net you mentioned?”

“Yeah.”

“Does the inter-net have phone directories as well?”

“Yeah, yellow and white for any city in the US.”

“Can I see your phone?” He pulled it out of a back pocket and handed it to her. That was when he saw the red soon to be bruises on her knuckles.

“What happened?” This time he was not timid, he wanted to know.

“I ruined your jacket punching a tree.” She said with finality and ignored his look, picked up his phone and punching in the code she had seen him use earlier to ‘unlock’ it. She jabbed each button she needed on the screen. Almost twenty minutes later she found what she wanted.

“You have any paper? And a pen?” Dean leaned over, opened the glove box and rummaged around. Mary saw a small gun and a hunting knife in addition to the flashlight and a pile of papers before his hand came out with a small notebook and a mechanical pencil. At least those hadn’t changed.

She wrote down the address and number before closing the inter-net on Dean’s phone. “What time do you think we’ll make it to Lawrence?”

Dean glanced at her, “About 5pm. Do you want to get flowers before we visit Dad?”

“No, I don’t think he’ll care.” She started twisting the wedding ring on her finger.

She picked Dean’s phone up from her lap where she had dropped it and had to unlock it again. It took her a few minutes of jabbing the screen but she got it to do what she wanted and she put it to her ear and waited.

She changed her voice and said, “Hi, I’d like to make an appointment, do you have any openings next Sunday?… Great, 6:30?… Okay, I’ll be there.” She stabbed the end call button about three times before it closed, then handed the phone back to Dean.

“We can visit your Dad, and we have to make a stop on the way out of Lawrence.”

“Okay, what kind of appointment do you have? Next Sunday” She was silent.

“Mom?” She ignored him.

“Mom, talk to me.” She sighed.

“I can- I don-“ she paused to think. “Before you made the deal with me to wait till you had seen a newspaper. Now I’m asking you to trust me. I’ll answer your questions after our errands on our way to Sammy. I assume you still haven’t heard from him?”

“No. No word.”

In an effort to distract him, she picked a name that she remembered hearing a few times and asked him to tell her about Ellen. They spend the rest of the trip to Lawrence with him telling her about Ellen, Jo, Ash and Bobby.

  


 

~

 

They got out of the car and she followed Dean into the cemetery. He led her to two graves, right next to each other, Mary Campbell Winchester and John Winchester. She touched her own stone as she stepped past it to John’s. She didn’t feel anything, it was too surreal. The future, him gone, but in the past. Seeing his name on a headstone wasn’t closure, it was unreal. She looked at Dean. “When was the last time you were here?”

“A few days ago.”

“Because of the saving the world thing that Claire mentioned?” she couldn’t look at him at this.

“I don’t know what Claire said… but yeah. Because of that.”

“Was Sammy with you?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” She rested a hand on John’s tombstone and stared at it. He had been dead for ten years. They had thought they would have decades together. They had had just over one. Now she was in the future and he had been dead for almost another decade. Somehow that did hurt. That thought hurt a lot. Everything had been ripped from her. She had been ripped from time, and so far the only things she did have were a hunter son older than she was, the promise of another hunter son who was missing and a headstone for her hunter husband who happened to be a legacy of the Men of Letters. That thought clenched in her gut and caused her to physically hunch over.

She shuddered and didn’t realize until her jeans were dripped on that she was crying. Dean’s strong hand rested on her shoulder and she had to keep herself from leaning against him and taking comfort from him. She had to be strong. She knelt there, head bowed for a long time. Dean, to his credit, didn’t move either.

Finally, she stood and with clear eyes turned to her son. “I’m going to be a terrible mother.” Dean looked at her quizzically until she continued. “Give me the keys, I’ll pull the car up, I want you to go to the shed over there and steal a shovel. You might want a pair of gloves as well.” He continued to stare at her quizzically. “Go!” she shooed him away and with the keys in hand waited for him to go. Then she turned back to John.

“John, it sounds like my death changed you in ways I can hardly imagine. I wish you had known your father, I’ll have to find out more about him. I kind of stopped Dean from telling me the rest of the story about your father.” She paused, then “Thank you for keeping our boys alive. Thank you for the years that we had. I’ll come back, but- But I need to go look after our boys, like you did. Good bye.” She kissed two fingers and touched them to the headstone.

Then she turned on her heel and went back to the car, not noticing Dean watching as he crossed the cemetery to the caretaker’s shed.

  


 

~

 

It took him hours, three heavenly corridors and passing through five human heavens for him to find an unguarded door to earth. Sighing, he opened it and walked through, only to hang from his ankles half way between heaven and earth. With a mighty beat of his wings he flew himself back up to heaven. The shackles he had seen earlier had come back and he realized that what ever banishment that woman had used, was more than a simple banishment. This time it was keeping him sealed in heaven.

A flashing light next to the door made him realize that the other angels knew that someone had opened the door. He shut it and ran, thankful that the manacles didn’t slow him down so long as he tried to stay in heaven.

  


 

~

 

She drove Dean to the edge of town. It was only when they were a few minutes away from their destination that he spoke.

“Are we going to your old place?”

“Yes.”

“And what are we doing once we get there.”

“Well, we are going to hope that nobody is home, because we are going to dig up a box from the front yard.”

“Why?”

“Because I need something that is inside it, a key.”

“Wouldn’t Samuel- Your dad have picked this up when he came back?”

“He didn’t know about it.”

“What is the key for?”

“To unlock a door.”

“Mom, I knew your dad, in the 70’s and when he came back. He liked to be in control. How did he not know about this?”

“Simple, my mother and I never told him.”

“Why did you leave it there when your parents died?” The question stung a little, but she understood his motivation.

“Because I thought I was out of the life. And for ten years I was. But now, with you and Sammy as Legacies, I have to get back in the game.”

“What does our being Legacies have to do with anything?”

“I’ll tell you after our erands.” She pulled up to the house. It was old, but well cared for and that made her glad. What was even better is that they had covered half of the front yard with a vine-like ground cover. “Bring the shovel.” She said and got out of the car. A few kids played in a driveway two blocks away but otherwise it looked like if people were home, they were not outside. Good.

She walked to the front left corner of the house and counted her paces into the foliage, turned and counted again. She stopped and started pulling the vines away from the spot. “Dean,” she looked up for him, he was a few feet away, watching. “I need you to dig a hole here.” He came to her.

“How deep?” he asked looking at the soft earth.

“Four feet.” His head snapped up. “We had to make sure it wouldn’t be found by accident.” Dean mumbled under his breath and started digging.

It took about thirty minutes before she had him slow, and dig with his hands. There was more mumbling but she couldn’t hear it, and probably didn’t want to hear it anyways. He stood up with an old bag in his hands and stopped, looking past her. Sighing she turned to see a woman on a phone looking out the front window of her childhood home.

“Time to go?” Dean asked.

“Yes.” She took the bag, held out a hand to help him out of the hole and they drove off. They had only gone a few blocks when Dean directed her to pull into an alley. She didn’t question him and did so, the alley turned and she found herself in a small parking lot.

“We’ll wait here for a few minutes.” And they did, with Dean slapping the dirt off his clothes. Mary picked up the old canvas bag from where she had placed it by her feet, and pulled out a box from inside it. It was a little dirty, but seemed to have come out of its burial and resurrection unscathed.

“What's in the box?” Dean asked as he scratched at a clump of dirt on his calf that wouldn’t come off.

Instead of answering she turned it and showed him an intricate design she started pushing and twisting different parts of the design, and knew that Dean was watching as she solved the puzzle on the box. She had one piece to go when she paused and looked up at Dean. “Do you know of any vampire nests around here?”

“No, why?”

“Because once I open this box, what is inside has a scent that will attract any vampire for at least twenty miles.”

“Two years a ago Sam and I cleared a next on the other side of town, I don’t think any have come back. Will the attraction last long?”

“Only for as long as the box is open and it will stick to us until we shower. I’ll be quick with it, I just wanted to make sure that we won’t be attacked anytime soon.”

“Probably not. Though I’m starting to think that we should head to the bunker sooner than later if we’re going to have vamps on our trail.”

“I’ll be as quick as I can.” Mary slide the last piece of the puzzle and the box popped open. The construction was ancient but it didn’t seem to be more than a couple of years old. Inside she pulled out a small modern key, and an ivory cross. She left the other half dozen objects in the box and closed it up with a number of deft twists. Then putting both items in a pocket she turned the car back on.

They drove west for fifteen minutes past the edge of town and Mary pulled the car over to the side of the road. “We walk from here.” Dean was surprisingly quiet. She looked at him as she got out but his face was blank with a hint of angry. She led the way through a wood, until she found the creek and walked upstream.

“I remember the first time my mother brought me this way. I was twelve. She told me I always needed to remember how to get here because someday I would have to bring my children. I asked if Dad knew of this place. It was the only time I knew my mother to keep a secret from my father, She said he didn’t. That he couldn’t. Where we are going only those of our bloodline can survive.” When Dean did say anything behind her she continued.

  
“I told her that didn’t make sense, she said I know and to just keep hiking.” They were going up a rocky hill now and she had to watch her footing. Part of the path was washed out so she crossed to the other side of the stream. Bouldering up, she slipped, but before she could hit the rock under her, Dean had caught her. He set her upright then stood, waiting for her to lead the way. She sighed and led the way.

When they were near the top of the hill and the stream was just a trickle from a spring that had to be nearby she stopped and studied the rocks. After a minute she turned to Dean, “Do you have a lighter?” He silently fished one from his pocket and handed it to her. “You don’t smoke do you?” she asked suddenly.

“Its for ghosts not smokes.”

She knelt next to a jumble of rocks which made what looked like a small cave entrance and flicked on the lighter, then using one hand crawled in. It was dark, damp and she could feel a bitter cold breeze building. After a few feet she stood on the ledge of a cliff inside a cave. She held the lighter down so Dean could see his way in too.

When he was standing next to her she handed him the lighter, pulled his knife from his belt and carefully cut her arm. Then she drew a series of symbols on top of each other on the wall above where they had crawled in.

“Do you know about blood sigils?”

“Some. What’s this one do?”

“Keep us from dying. You’re going to make the same one I did but you will change the last sigil slightly.” He bloodied his arm and she helped guide his drawing of the blood sigil. He was better at it than she was.

When he was done she pulled out the ivory cross from her pocket and pressed it against the rock between the two sigils. It was always impressive to her how the rock seemed to move like clay to receive the cross. When it was flush with the rock the breeze that had been coming from the bottom of the cave picked up.

“We are going to step out and over.” Dean looked at her then at the ever increasing speed of the wind. When their clothes were flapping and they could hear nothing but wind she took his hand and stepped out. As she started to fall he tried to hold her back, to lift her up but she pulled on his hand and then they were falling together.

It was a slow dark fall, the wind buoying them up. There was a tiny bit of light above them from the crack where they had crawled in but that was the only light. The lighter had gone out with the wind.

They seemed to fall for forever, then though she couldn’t see it, she felt something move near them. That was good, that meant they were almost to the bottom. She had no sooner thought that thought then the wind was knocked out of her as she was suddenly rolling down a snowy embankment.

When she stopped rolling she took a few deep breaths and could hear Dean near her doing the same in the pitch darkness.

“You could have warned me.” He said and she could hear him moving. “You okay?”

  
“I’m fine. Telling you would have been useless. It changes every time.” She rolled to her hands and knees and started crawling down hill and could hear Dean following her. “Stay low, I’m not sure how tall the ceiling is.”

“I lost the lighter in the drop.”

“That’s okay, we won’t need it soon.” She kept crawling downhill until she felt moss under her hand and instantly the cave was filled with a white glow, the rocks glowed, every surface that was covered with water, or moss glowed white. The room was about the size and shape of a trailer home, but decorated with colored mosses, trickles of water and glowing stone walls.

“What is this place?”

“It is a magical, uh, archive. It belongs to our bloodline. If any not of the bloodline enter, they die. If any of the blood do enter without their blood sigil passing, they die. The cross just helped speed the wind along.”

She turned to Dean. “You said that your are friends with an angel, Castiel right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you are about to meet the ghost of an arch angel so, well, don’t freak out.”

“You said you don’t believe in angels and know you’re telling me Angels can turn into ghosts?”

“Well, yes. Stay behind me and repeat what I do.”

She stepped into the room of rock light and Dean followed, when they were about half way there was the whoosh of wings, and at the far end stood a woman.

She was at least seven feet tall, broad and curvy. Long curly hair waved in a non-existent breeze down to her hips. In one hand was a spear that looked like an extended angel blade, in the other hand was a basket of fruit. She was a white ghost but something about her made it quite clear to anyone that she could still kill with her spear.

She was agitated and her white wings were slowly flapping, making her hover a few inches above the ground. She spoke in a screaming screeching language and Mary covered her ears, fell to one knee and called out, “Mother!” behind her she head Dean say the same. The Angel spoke again this time in booming resonating English. “Child Mary, Why do you visit your Mother?”

“Mother Ariel, I wish to introduce you to my son, Dean.”

“Child Mary, you have done well. He is of the blood.” Mary hadn’t realized she was holding her breath, but she let it go now. Ariel walked past her and stood in front of Dean. Mary watched discreetly over her shoulder as Ariel placed the butt of her spear to Dean’s chin and lifted it. His eyes were wide as he looked up at Ariel.

“You Child Dean have been many places, touched by much.” The basket disappeared and she placed one finger under his chin and lifted him to standing then lifted him higher. Then she hissed, “You have been touched by them, and HER.”The Spear was suddenly pressing against his abdomen, a sizzling coming from the contact. Dean didn’t flinch.

“I don’t understand, she loves you. Why?” He didn’t respond and Ariel continued to lock eyes with him.

“You released her? It was you!?” Dean was thrown against a rock wall and pinned there by air, the spear now leveled at his throat.

Mary had no idea what Ariel was talking about but she jumped to her feet and stood in front of Dean.

She looked up at the angel and it took everything she had not to quiver with fear. Ariel’s hair whipped, the spear was glowing golden, and Ariel’s eyes were wild and fierce.

“Do you know what it cost to lock her away? Did you know what you were doing?!” without warning Ariel drew back her spear and impaled Dean.

“NO!” Mary screamed and turned to see her son. The spear was directly through the center of his chest, but there was no blood. Dean had gone as white as Ariel, even his clothing had faded to pale shades of its former color but he hadn’t moved, his eyes were locked on Ariel, who in turn had locked her eyes on the spear.

Mary looked at it now. One little trickle of blood was slowly moving down the shaft towards Ariel’s hand, but the surface of the spear had turned into a maze and the blood was working it’s way through the maze leaving a fine sheen of blood to show it’s path including the wrong turns. Some of the turns shone with a green light, others with a blue, but most with a dark or a white light.

Looking up at Ariel she realized that the blood and the spear were telling a story, the story of her son. At the end of the maze just an inch or so above her grip the blood swirled creating a little cyclone of white and black light. One tiny drop of the black lit blood splattered on Mary’s jaw. She looked up to see Ariel staring at her but didn’t dare wipe the blood away.

Then Ariel looked back at Dean. “You are the first of my blood to live after visiting Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. You are the first of my blood to be so infected, yet so pure.”

Ariel pulled the spear out and Mary turned to catch Dean. Despite her efforts he collapsed to his hands and knees, one arm wrapped around his chest and breathing heavily. There was no blood on his back, though there was a perfect circle missing from his clothes where the spear pierced. She gently pulled his shirt up, but the only evidence of what had happened was a white scar in a perfect circle over the vertebrae between his shoulder blades. She looked at the scar but didn’t dare touch it, she looked at the wall. There was a clear hole at least a foot deep in the wall, from the spear. She looked at Ariel who no longer looked like the embodiment of wrath, but suddenly looked calm, and at peace.

It was disturbing to Mary and she looked back at Dean. He was catching his breath and she realized he must not have been able to breath when the spear ran him through. He looked up at her with an expression she couldn’t read then slowly he stood. She helped him and was surprised at how much he needed her help.

“Eat.” Mary looked up to see Ariel, the spear gone and a fruit she had never seen before in her hand. “Eat the fruit child Dean.” With a shaky hand and a look to Mary, Dean took the fruit and ate a bite. He chewed slowly, a look of wonder on his face. He swallowed then collapsed to the floor unconscious, nearly taking Mary with him.

Mary turned protectively, standing in front of her son. “What was that!?” then realizing how stupid it was to be rude to an archangel continued lamely with “Mother Ariel.”

Ariel smiled. “He needed nourishment after the ordeal of the spear of truth. The fruit is restoring him even now. It isn’t as effective as the healing ‘Chuck’ placed on him a few days ago, but it is the best I can do in my state.” Mary’s head reeled, hadn’t someone said something about Chuck actually being the Creator? The ordeal of the spear of truth, what was that? Why hadn’t she heard of it?

Dean stirred and she crouched to help him up again. This time he didn’t need it. He looked up at Ariel and smiled grimly. “I get it.”

“Get what Child Dean?”

“Get you.” Ariel seemed to bristle a little but she didn’t deny it. “I get you but I don’t get how or why.”

“Child Mary, you are now the head of your branch of the family. I authorize you to explain our family to him and eventually to your other son.” At the word ‘our’ Dean’s head snapped to look at Mary. She sighed and began telling the story as her mother had told her. Adjusting it slightly given the topic of conversation was an archangel only a few feet away.

“Your grandma, Deanna Von Jager Engle Campbell came to the United States as a young girl in the thirties. During world war one, the family fortune and lands in Prussia had been decimated. In the United States, her family found that the bulk of their work was being done for them by both hunters and the Men of Letters. They were able to focus on other things, like life. The Von Jager Engle name is passed down to all blood descendants. I think my mother was the first to take her husband's name rather than have him take her name to keep the Von Jager Engle family name alive.

“What do you know about the Men of Letter’s initiation ceremony?” she asked Dean.

“Just that they have one, and that’s when the knight of hell, Abaddon decimated the order.” Ariel hissed at Abaddon’s name then smiled malevolently and winked at Dean. That threw off Mary and Dean for a moment before she could continue.

“The Men of Letter’s initiation includes a blood oath. It binds their blood to the cause of the angels. They believe that through this ritual they are given the strength of angels and may then act in God’s name to study and exterminate evil in this world. They were like the monks of the middle ages; they chronicled everything but hardly left their Monasteries. Well, the Von Jager Engles were the Nun version, except it was more like the Amazonian warrior nun version. It was easier to get them out into the world to take care of business.

“In the 5 th century BC the only female archangel, Mother Ariel, was curious about her brothers forays to earth. She couldn’t understand how the children they sired were human not Nephilim like when regular angels sired children with humans. To be a member of the Men of Letters, you must be a descendent of one of the male archangels. That is why they can tap their soul to power spells.

“Confused by these differences, she came to earth, she took a Hunter as a lover and bore a child. But she changed after her child was born and she spent more and more time with her lover and daughter. It caused trouble in heaven and eventually she was cast out and lost most of her powers. But she was able to preserve some in her children. As long as the blood ran true, her descendants would have her power.

“My own brothers tried to kill me.” Ariel hissed. “They thought they could kill me but they were wrong…” Mary paused to make sure Ariel was done before continuing.

“My own mother, did not have the power, though she was a wonderful hunter. The power is only in me a little. I can do a few simple blood sigils, but that is it. Unless authorized by Mother Ariel, we can never speak of or explain our bloodline outside of her presence. As you may have guessed, this cave is a magical creation, it can be accessed from many places all over the world.

“I can teach you what I know of our bloodline’s abilities, but mostly you will have to come here for training. I am guessing that you are strong in our blood.” She looked up at Ariel who nodded.

“Our blood is powerful, and protects us when hunting. If we are on a hunt, it will minimize injury, occasionally reflect weapons, heal you quicker when hurt, it gives strength and endurance of both body and especially the soul.”

Ariel Spoke, “You have seen this in your life.”

Dean looked uncomfortable. “Yes, but I could always explain it away. Besides, I’ve been zapped by angels more times than I can remember.”

Mary wondered at that but continued, “Our blood would make their ‘Zapping’ you easier and more effective than if you had been a normal human.”

They were silent, Ariel and Mary watching Dean who was staring at his hands as he rubbed one gently over the other.

“And because I’m a legacy as well?”

“My brother’s blood runs strong in you as well. Chuck as you call him, organized for you and your brother to be born. He thought it was time he cleaned up some of his children’s lingering messes.” This time it was Mary’s turn to feel like she had been stabbed through the heart.

“You mean, John and I-“

“Yes, organized from before you were born. Chuck risked the status quo to clean up after his children one last time.” Ariel stared at Dean for a moment. “He trusted in humans.” She seemed to be thinking that over.

Dean was about to say something when Ariel snapped her fingers.

They were back in the car, Dean in the driver’s seat, Mary the passenger’s and a pile of old old books packed around her legs and sitting on her lap.

A faint yet powerful voice came from the empty back seat. “You will have to study to bring balance to the hunter world.” They both turned to look but Ariel wasn’t there.

Mary turned back to the front of the car and looked at the books on her lap. The few she could see well in the darkness were in languages she didn’t even recognize.

Dean swore. He swore again and again. He swore about arrogant angels. He turned the car on. He swore about Chuck. He pulled out onto the road. And he swore one last time about cupids before he fell silently to brooding.

 

 

~

 

They had driven for over an hour and passed the last of the tolls. Dean was still brooding. She had moved the books to the back seat and had been staring out into nothing thinking about what Ariel had said.

“Dean, What did she mean about you having gone to heaven, hell, and purgatory.”

“Just what she said Mom.” She had been afraid of that. That meant…

“Dean, you’ve been to heaven, hell, and purgatory?”

“Yes.”

“But, how? How have you gone there and come back? I didn’t realize that purgatory was actually a place, I thought it was a myth.”

“Samuel, I mean your dad, knew it was real.” He snapped, then sighed as he realized it. She was quiet.

“How Dean?” he squeezed the steering wheel, obviously thinking about what to tell her.

“Well… Heaven: A hunter ganked Sam and me, we ended up in heaven running from the angel Zachariah, but the angel Joshua saved us from him and sent us back. Hell: Sam was killed, I made a deal. I died. Chuck sent the angels to rescue me. They did. I woke up in my own body, in my own pine box. Purgatory: I killed a leviathan, apparently that has side effects, I got sent to the monster afterlife too. After too long, I found the human ‘escape hatch’ and ended up back in Maine. What else Mom?”

She was silent. Still not sure what to ask, wondering why he hadn’t asked her more questions.

“Why aren’t you asking more questions Dean?”

“Because this all makes too much freakin’ sense and I don’t have time to think about it.” A stab of guilt washed over her as she realized how worried he was about Sammy. She is Sammy’s mother, she should be even more worried. Maybe it was because she had yet to actually see him. Or because based on what the women at Jody’s place had said, that since Sammy thought Dean was dead he would be drinking a private wake and might not rouse himself for at least a few days.

“Why are you so worried about Sammy? You left him safe at your bunker right?”

“Yeah, but… Trouble seems to find him. And it’s not like him not to check his phone. Even when- well, even when he thought I was gone, he still checked his phone for a while.” Suddenly she had a sobering thought. In some ways, Dean was more of a mother to Sammy than she was. Yes, she had carried him to term, and nursed him, and raised him for 6 months, but Dean had been watching out for Sammy for 33 years, most of which they would have been hunting. She was going to be sick. She hugged herself and stared out the window.

When the heat started blowing on her she looked over to see Dean’s hand going from the heat dial to loosen his shirt. Dean, was always so aware of those he loved.

Finally he looked at her, “Amazonian warrior nuns? Really or exaggeration? ‘Cause I’ve met real Amazonian warriors.” That got her to snort.

“Real Amazonians? They exist?”

“Yeah, they’re crazy. They get all sexed up and a week later the baby girl is a teenager hell-bent on killing her father. So you’re saying we are not related to them?”

She tried not to snicker, “No, not as far as I know.”

“How about Wonder Woman? We related to her?”

This time she did laugh, “No, not her either. Though some of the stories I’ve heard about my grandma Von Jegar Engle might make you wonder if that is who Wonder Woman was based on. It’s a bloodline, so the power can be strong in anyone of the blood. It can even skip a generation or two. My mom said that after her great grandfather, her mother was the first to have the power in any significant amount.”

“So, it’s not just a woman thing. Like only the women of the family have the power?”

“No, I think it is more common in the women, but when the men have it, it tends to be a more powerful version of it.”

“So with both bloodlines, Sam and I are screwed.” Again she felt her gut clench up. He glanced at her saw her face and apologized.

“Thats not it. It’s just-“ she sighed. “The when the power of the bloodlines is mixed, it creates the opportunity for greater power. Power that can’t be controlled by outside forces. The few times the bloodlines have mixed, the children have been hunted down and killed by one side or the other. Neither can stand to think that the other has control or influence over someone so powerful. Those with mixed bloodlines have a tendency to die young or change the world then die bloody. If it is known by anyone that you have mixed blood, you would have a target painted on your back.” Dean muttered something but she didn’t ask what.

“That is why I got sick. That is why I had to let out my rage. If I hadn’t raged I would have cried, and that does me no good. Not when I have to protect my boys. But Mother Ariel was on the way and you needed to know.”

They drove a few more miles before she asked, “John certainly didn’t know, how do you know that you two are legacies?”

“Henry Winchester, Dad’s father.”

“Right, I think John only mentioned him once, ever.” that got her thinking.

“Look, Henry was a Man of Letters, or at least training to be. He was at his initiation when things went massively sideways. Abaddon, the kni-“

“You mentioned her, why was Mother Ariel upset by that name?”

“Abaddon was a Knight of Hell, she was one of the worst. All the other knights had been killed off in the 1800’s by Cain-“

“Wait, you mean Cain, Cain? As in Cain and Abel?”

“Yes. As in Cain and Abel. Anyways, Abaddon had decided to take out the Men of Letters. She had wiped out most of them in America and went to the Initiation meeting wearing an initiate’s meat suit. She slaughtered them. One of the Men of Letters gave Henry a box, said he had to keep it away from Abaddon at all costs. Henry tapped his soul and beamed himself out of there, and into the future.”

“I’ve heard of a spell like that, it takes you to your closest living relative.”

“Then it’s the same spell. He came out of our closet door asking Sam and me which one of us was John Winchester. Long story short, he gave us the key to keep safe from Abaddon. It was the key to the bunker we now live in. Henry died saving Sam from Abaddon.”

“Is Abaddon still out there?”

Dean cleared his throat, “No, I killed her over a year ago now.” She noticed that when he readjusted his grip on the steering wheel it meant that he didn’t want to talk about something.

“You’ll have to formally let me into the bunker.” She said.

“What? Why?”

“Because in order to enter a Men of Letter’s bunker, house, station, whatever you want to call it, you have to either be of the blood or let in.”

“But the Steins-“ he cut himself off and swore again. “Thats how they got the book in the first place. Their ancestors were Men of Letters.”

“Huh?”

“Uh, Frankenstein the book was based on a family of creepy dudes who liked body modification. They broke into the bunker a while back and tossed it. We certainly hadn’t invited them in.”

“Then they must have had the blood. I can’t get in, I don’t have the right bloodline.”

“I won’t have to invite you in every time will I?”

“No, just the first time, after that it will be like any building for me. But those not of your father’s bloodline will not see it for what it is until they have been invited in. This helps to protect it.”

“Are there places like that for the, what did you call it the Von jagger angles?”

“Von Jagger Engle. And yes, where we went tonight is a good example. Those not of the blood wouldn’t have been able to see the cave.”

“Hey did you loose the cross?”

Mary smiled and pulled the cross she had left in the cave wall out of her pocket. “Mother Ariel brought it back with us. I noticed it when I was moving the books.”

“Huh.” Dean said trying not to show he was impressed.

“Do you know which archangel the Winchesters descend from?”

“My guess is Michael, but I don’t know. I don’t think that Henry knew about the archangel connection, I think he would have told us if he had.”

They sat in silence as Dean turned off onto a surface street.

“One last question for you right now Dean, why were you cursing cupids earlier?”

 

 

~

 

Dean had driven past the street to towards the bunker and seen too many cars he didn’t recognize and he was spooked. So he had gone over the layout of the bunker and the surrounding land with her and parked a few blocks away taking her through the woods to an escape hatch. It had been well hidden by vines and forest loam. She never would have known it was there. Given how overgrown it was she was impressed that it was silent as Dean swung it open to reveal the dark maw of a cave.

“Hold onto my shirt and I’ll lead you in, watch the lip of the door. I’m going to close it behind us, then I’ll lead you to and through the back of the store room to the hallway. I’ll need you to watch my flank. Feel free to shoot at anyone who isn’t Sammy. Either they aren’t supposed to be there, or the bullets won’t hurt them. If you feel confident aim for the leg so I can question them, if not, center mass.”

“Dean, we went over this before. I know what to do.” She couldn’t see his face but he took her hand, led it to the back of his shirt and once she had grabbed on he led the way into the bunker. It was easy, she held him with one hand and held a cocked gun in the other. She had bumped into a few things sticking off shelves in the store room and had nearly shot her own foot off when she jumped at rattling jars on a bumped shelf, but fortunately, training had taken hold and she had lifted her finger from the trigger rather than squeezed when she was startled. She could see light coming in from under a door as they made their way to the far side.

At the door, Dean waited and pressed his ear to it to listen. Apparently, he heard nothing because he slowly opened the door a crack to let them see out and let their eyes adjust to the light. She could see what looked like a dimly lit old fashioned garage. A few cars were covered with canvas and closest to them she could see red motorcycle from the forties. Polish and a rag next to it said that it was well cared for.

Dean swore and she looked up to see where he was looking. Peering around him for a better look she saw John’s Impala, parked in the center of the garage. The doors, hood, and trunk were popped open and a pile of hunters gear had been thrown carelessly on the floor by the trunk. A cracked clay jar had leaked liquid across the floor till it had found a drain.

“They have no idea how much that oil costs do they?” he asked himself. She looked up at him and was amazed at how much concern was written on his face.

“You drive around in John’s Impala?” she whispered surprised. He nodded.

“Since I was twelve.” He made something of a growling noise in his throat, then inched the door open further and slipped into the garage. She followed. They watched the balcony and the doors but no one came. Dean went to the pile of stuff on the floor and pulled out a shot gun, pistol, two silencers and a handful of knives. He handed three knives and a silencer to her and then hid three on himself before checking the load on the shot gun.

“Sammy didn’t do this. Someone was here. If it was Rowena…” he let the thought trail away as he led the way to a door. As planned they cleared the bunker room by room, working from the edges of the mammoth building towards the main living areas. Every once in a while, they would see evidence of a snooper. Items on shelves all mixed up when everything else was in perfect order. At one point when she commented on it, Dean’s response was logical. “Well, the Men of Letters were fastidious, and Sam has kept it that way. It’s saved us a few times just knowing where everything is.”

When they got to Sam’s room Dean swore again, it was in shambles. What little there was had been thrown in boxes. Weapons in one, books in another, electronics another and papers in yet another. They cleared another unused bedroom and then Dean’s room. It was in even worse condition, with a man dumping the contents of a drawer into a box.

He looked up as the door opened and froze as two guns came up three feet from his face. “Don’t move,” Dean said. When the man tried to put down the drawer full of Dean’s boxers Dean said, “Nuh-nuh. Keep that drawer right where it is.” Dean kept him covered while she shut the door silently behind them. Then she kept him covered while Dean crossed and picked up a gun from the bed, and searched the man. Dean added the intruder’s spare gun, knife and cellphone to his own pockets, then backed up, looked around the room and pointed with his gun at the wooden chair by itself in a corner. “Sit, quietly.”

The man while taller than Mary was willowy and nowhere near as tall or broad as her son. She kept her gun trained on the man as he slowly set down the drawer on the bed, crossed to the chair and sat without saying a word. Dean crossed to a desk, opened a drawer and pulled out a roll of silver duck tape. He placed it on the bed then covered the man again. “Mary, tape him to the chair.”

“Is that really necessary?” the man asked. He was in his forties and balding. He had a bit of a gut and was obviously not very trim.

“I think so,” Dean said. Mary placed her gun on the bed in easy reach of Dean, picked up the tape, found the end of the roll and surprising the man, she taped his mouth then his shoulders to the chair first. Then she taped each hand and foot. She used more than was probably necessary, but she was taking no chances. Dean, tucked his gun in his waist band, picked out a sack from the pile of clothes in the closet and placed it over the man’s head. Then taped that closed around the man’s neck.

“I suggest you stay calm or you’ll hyperventilate.” Dean patted the top of the bag, tapped the man’s fingers to the chair as well then led the way back out of the room, gun at the ready. Mary bit her tongue. She would talk to Dean later.

In the kitchen they found another man, taking a pizza out of the old oven. The man reached for his gun and Dean shot him between the eyes. The man collapsed on the floor unmoving, the blood pooling behind him.

A moment later, Mary was sick in a wastebasket in a corner. She heard Dean take out the pizza, close the oven door and turn off the oven. She was sick again trying to ignore the sounds of Dean being so calm and at home after killing a man in his kitchen.

When she stood up, Dean had placed a glass of water and a towel on the counter near her. She looked at them in disgust but swallowed her pride and rinsed her mouth out and cleaned up a little. Dean waited patiently near the door listening. When she was done she followed him to the doorway and he led the way to a mechanical room, checking each room as they passed.

In the mechanical room, Dean looked over a switchboard and circuit breaker from the 40’s and flipped two switches. “Silent lock down. Only reason the alarm will go off now is if someone tries to leave. They can enter, but they can’t leave. This one scrambles their phones. They can’t call out.”

She couldn’t look at him, just nodded and faced the door again. Dean led the way out.

In the next bedroom, they found a man sleeping. Dean knocked him out, taped his mouth and cuffed him to the bed before the man had had time to stand up.

The next room was also occupied but this one got a shot off with a gun hidden under his pillow before Dean killed him.

They had cleared the other floors and every room but those immediately adjacent to the main hall where steps divided the study room and the map table room. They could hear at least one person moving around in the two rooms. They had previously decided it was worth the risk to split up and approach from two hallways, on the same side but at opposite ends of the hall. Dean directed Mary to stay where they were and wait while he went back down the hall and turned a corner.

Mary stood there, cold and trying not to shiver. She tried to remember past hunts. But her father had made each of those kills. She had only killed a handful of times, and each of those were monsters about to eat her or her family. Dean had killed that human man because he was cooking a pizza in his oven. What kind of world was this? What kind of man was her son?

Her son… where was Sammy? They hadn’t seen him. His room had been ransacked, he was supposed to be here, so where was he. She was done. Enough of the sneaking around. She slipped her gun in the back of her waistband, but easily accessible and walked forward.

“Sammy?” she asked. The hall went silent. She took another two steps forward and called again, “Sammy?” She could hear people moving but she slowly walked into the room, “Sam?” a woman in her forties stood next to a giant table covered in artifacts, books, and papers. “I’m looking for Sam. Have you seen him?” the woman was silent. “Hello?” no response. “Hola.” Nothing. Mary sighed and tried three more languages, “Konbanwa? Guten nacht? Salaam?” the woman never moved or reacted but she was looking at Mary intensely now.

“So you are in his house, but you won’t say anything?” Mary said, slowly starting to walk towards the woman. She couldn’t see the other person or people that had been in the room with her, but she did realize that if they had flanked the intruders they would have had to risk crossfire if they had attacked. When Mary was about four feet away the woman glanced down at something on the table and Mary looked.She saw a faded picture of herself and John from the seventies just before her legs were swept under her and the woman tackled her to the floor, straddling her and holding a gun to her head.

“I have her. Was she alone?” the woman spoke with a British accent. A voice out of sight on the far side of the table responded with a matching accent.

“So far. Harry went to get Peter to check the rest of the bunker.” Mary sighed. And the woman looked back at her.

“Really? Why are you here?” Mary asked.

That made her laugh. “Why am I here? Why are you here? Either you are supposed to be dead, or the Winchesters had a sister that no one knew about. At first, I thought you might be a ghost. But ghosts generally don’t have bloodied knuckles.” The woman looked meaningfully at Mary’s left hand which was pinned under the woman’s knee next to Mary’s head.

“True. What are you doing here? You do know you are trespassing right?”

“You answer a question, I’ll answer a question.” The British woman looked at her shrewdly then smiled.

“Alright. I was sent as a clean up crew. Dean Winchester is dead and Sam Winchester is in custody. We are moving back into the bunker. You?”

“My name is Mary Winchester, and I am not trespassing. You are with the Men of Letters?” That surprised the woman a bit but she was trying not to show it.

“We are. This is a Men of Letters bunker. Are you their mother or another relative?”

“Mother. What do you mean that Sam is in custody?”

“The men ‘upstairs’ are tired of the Winchester’s antics.Dean unlocked the key to the apocalypse, Sam drank demon blood and let Lucifer out of his cage to actually start the apocalypse. Sure they ended it, but Sam then ran around without a soul. Because of them Angels got all high and mighty and started messing with souls.” Venom was entering the woman’s voice as she continued her rant. “Monsters were rising up, and Castiel decided to become the new god. But he couldn’t handle the power he had taken in and Leviathan nearly destroyed the world. Are you proud of your boys yet?” the woman practically spat the words. “But I’m not done. Then they became buddy buddy with the King of Hell, and somehow they forced all the angels from heaven and brought Abaddon back. Dean took the mark of Cain upon himself and then became a demon.” Mary felt like she had been slapped. The others she figured could be explained away some other way or that the details had been twisted but becoming a demon?

“Oh, you didn’t know that? Well, then they got a few more friends killed and released the Darkness. You probably don’t know what the Darkness is. Well, that was the last straw for the elders. The Darkness is a force of evil that God and his archangels locked away long long ago. It infects humans, kills them. Makes them kill others. Thats what your sons were doing this week, fighting the Darkness with a fallen angel, the King of Hell, a witch and a terrible writer. The sun was failing because of the Darkness. It was just a matter of time before the whole world died. But your son Dean did one good thing with his life. He died!” Flecks of spittle flew into Mary’s face as the woman raged on. “He died and he took the Darkness with him. Then when Sam came back here, my boss was waiting for him. She banished the angel, shot Sam and took him into custody. Sam has a few years of torture to look forward to then if he is luck he will be executed, if not he will linger in our prison until he dies of old age. He-“ the woman finally stopped talking and her eyes seemed to refocus on Mary.

“Wow. You monolog too much. You didn’t notice the knife I’ve had pressing into your chest since you tripped me. The woman looked down and Mary moved. She slipped the knife between the woman’s ribs, pulled her pinned arm towards her, out from the woman’s knee and grabbed her weapon, emptied the chamber by pulling back the slide and pushed it to the side. Mary had slowly brought one leg up during the conversation and now kicked the woman’s other knee out from under her, and twisted, throwing the woman to the ground and landing on top of her, gun in one hand, knife in the woman’s ribs in the other hand.

The woman was coughing, and Mary could see red mixed with her spittle. She leaned a little closer and said, “You also didn’t hear my son, Dean take out your men or come up behind you. The woman looked up from her agony to see the gun that had stepped into view to Mary’s left.

“Where is my son? Where is Sam?” the woman’s eyes jerkily made their way back to Mary’s face. She tried to say something, then Mary heard the death rattle. A red foam formed in the woman’s mouth and she pointed towards the entrance hall with a smile, then the light left her eyes and Mary stood up. Leaving the knife where it was she walked to the main entrance hall, not even acknowledging Dean. The Entrance hall was round, an extension of the main hall with a few hallways off the sides and a stairwell up to the front door. A pool of dried blood lay ignored on the floor. It was smeared, there had been some sort of struggle. She followed smudges of blood on each step up to the front door. She tried to open it and an alarm made her jump. She looked down at Dean who had been staring at the dried blood. He silently went down a hallway to turn off the alarm.

In the sudden quiet, she heard the metallic click, as the front door unlocked. She opened it, a light overhead lit the entryway. There was no one outside. The smudges had turned to drops, some missing, lost in the loam and wind. The drops stopped at a set of tire tracks.

Dean had caught up but she ignored him and went back inside. She had never been one for anger or revenge but suddenly she could understand the appeal.

 

 

~

 

An hour later, Mary had piled the intruder's belongings on the table and was looking through them. When the front door opened she leveled her gun at the doorway but recognized Dean’s boots and pants and uncocking it, set it on the table.

“They didn’t have much. No identification, phones, two of them had car keys.” She said.

“I moved both cars. One probably won’t ever be found and based on where I left it the other will be stripped before daylight.” Dean came over to her and picked up a phone. It required a fingerprint to unlock. “Remember which phone came off which person?”

It took them a few tries but within an hour Dean had hacked into each of the phones to find they were all burners, bought within the week, and only the woman had made or received any calls from any other number. 

Mary started to dial it, but Dean stopped her. “Phones are like computers these days. You try to call and they can tell where you are. They might even be able to remote control the phone and turn on its camera. Let me do some research first.” 

Mary watched as he worked on his computer. He got stuff done, but the amount of swearing made her think that Sam did most of the techy stuff. 

“Where can we put the bodies?” She asked pulling him out of his curse-filled computer focused concentration.

“Huh?”

“Where can we put the bodies? I’m assuming you don’t have a cemetery or a crematorium in the bunker.” Dean flinched a little at that.

“Don’t say it…”

“We have two furnace rooms. It took me a couple of years to realize what the second one was for…” he looked up at her disgusted face. “Hey, I didn’t put it in! It was the McCarthy era.”

Mary sighed. “Where is it?” 

  


~

  


It had been Mary’s idea to have each of the two survivors watch as a body was placed in the furnace. Finest moment it was was not, effective it was.

The man from Dean’s room with a little more coaxing from Dean admitted that they were Men of Letters, London chapter. That the boss had had enough of Sam and Dean Winchester imperiling the world every year or two and that their team had been sent to arrest the Winchester brothers, catalog what was still in the bunker and open a new US Chapter. The man was a grunt who knew little else and Dean gagged and chained him up in their dungeon for further questioning at a later date.

The second man who had been asleep, was a bit more informative though still obviously a grunt. He was able to tell Dean where they had put Sam’s laptop with all their security footage on it. He also got Dean signed into the woman’s iPad, which was their main link to the Men of Letters, London chapter.  When he was done squealing like a pig, he was gagged and chained up in the dungeon as well. 

She splashed the bucket of water on the kitchen floor and watched it turn pink as it disappeared down a drain in the floor. She knew that the flooring choices had been because at the time a mop was the best way to clean a floor, but she couldn’t help but wonder if the expectation of blood might have increased the number of drains they put in. As it was she was washing away the blood so she could get to the stovetop  and make breakfast.

Five buckets later, the floor was clean and she stood in front of the ancient fridge and stared at the contents. With only condiments in the door, it was then obvious that the two each had a shelf. On the top shelf were salad fixings, eggs, and milk. On the second shelf take out boxes crowded each other. The bottom shelf was full of beer. Great, her sons were alcoholics.

Her sons were alcoholics. One had murdered a man right where she was standing only a few hours ago and not only had she helped burn the body, but she had killed a woman right in front of him. Her other son was missing, taken captive by the Men of Letters. A group of men and women who her sons had thought were extinct and who if they knew of the boys' mixed heritage would either be used for a power play or would be tortured and killed. And her sons were alcoholics.

She couldn’t explain it, but somehow that fact was the worst. That was the fact that broke her proverbial camel’s back. She leaned against the stove and cried. She wanted John. She wanted not to have died. She wanted her babies with her as babies, not full-grown, not as Hunters and especially not as Men of Letters. She hugged herself and let the tears fall as she slid to the floor. 

 

 

~

 

The sound of something thudding in the distance woke her from a pleasant dream of John and she jumped to her feet, gun cocked, eyes flashing every direction. Adrenaline pumping, she slowly took stock of the fact that she had been sleeping in a chair with a blanket over her in the bunker’s library. The mess on the table had been tidied enough for Dean to have made a new mess of books and electronics. 

The sound had come from down the main hallway. She walked that way until she heard a series of thumps. She ran towards the sound, ready to protect her son. She burst through the half-open door gun cocked and paused. Dean stripped to the waist and wearing boxing gloves on stood next to a swinging punching bag. He had headphones blaring music she could hear from the door and with his back to her, he began punching the bag with ferocity. 

Mary uncocked her gun and slumped against the door. Dean was angry but obviously felt safe enough to wear headphones. She looked at her watch they had picked up the day before and realized she had slept for about six hours. Dean must think her unfeeling for sleeping so much when Sammy was in obvious trouble. 

She was about to leave when she noticed an iPad propped up on a chair near Dean. On it was video and a very pale grungy Sammy appeared to be the star. Without realizing she had crossed the room she reached for it but a large hand grabbed her wrist and she looked up to see Dean another unreadable emotion on his face.

He pulled off the other glove and picked up the iPad. Then motioning to a bench along one wall, they sat in silence. She waited, afraid to hear what he was going to say. 

Finally, he began. “About an hour before Sam and Cas got back, a blond woman showed up, a ‘Lady Bevell’.” He curled the first two fingers in the air when he said that. “She made the weird angel sigil in the front room, went through some of our stuff and waited. She waited until Sam and Cas were downstairs and had noticed her before she banished Cas. Sam tried to talk her down. She says she is taking him in. He tries to talk her down some more and she shoots him in the leg. My guess is she hit an artery, cause he lost a lot of blood and used his own belt to tie off the bleeding while she just watched, keeping her gun on him.

They were silent for a bit. 

“Did I tell you Sam was pre-law? Almost graduated too. So he starts arguing jurisdictions and authority and she just says that that stuff doesn’t apply. After a bit, the others, the ones we met, come in, when he struggles one of them knocked him out, then they trussed him up and carried him out and loaded him in a trunk.”

Mary tried not to think about it but it hurt to think of baby Sammy she had held just a few days before now as a grown hunter bleeding out on the floor of the headquarters of an institution he is both heir and mortal enemy to. 

She nodded, “Continue.”

Dean’s jaw clenched and he placed the iPad in front of them both. “This was theirs. Chatty pants got a little more talkative after I saw our security footage. He showed me how to log into their system before he just gave me the code to turn it on. The group here is supposed to check in every 6 hours. I did their check in a bit ago with Chatty’s help. 

“Around midnight, when we were walking into town, they got Sam to their temporary headquarters. They hexed him to a chair and questioned him, while someone in medical scrubs took out the bullet and sewed him up. He never said a word.

“By the time light was coming in through a window out of sight, they had moved on to waterboarding. I’m guessing it was lunch time when they started eating in front of him. That was when they beat him.” She flinched as Dean’s voice was cold.

“He passed out for a few hours and they let him sleep. Then repeated the process when he woke. A couple hours ago, they hooked him up to two IVs. I don’t know what they are pumping into him, but it’s not good. He was muttering nonsense a while ago.”

“And you have no clues as to where he is?”

“No.” Dean was cold. His fire had turned to ice. And she was just trying not to melt or crack. “Turn it on.” With steady motions, Dean entered the passcode and the screen jumped to life. Sammy sat secured to a chair, half of one pant leg covered by a bloody bandage, his fingernails gone, his pale, pale face cut and bruised. His hair looked scraggly, wet with sweat as whatever they were pumping into each of his arms worked its evil. To the left of the video footage was a box half filled with text. As she watched a disembodied voice asked Sam, “Where is Crowley?” and a moment later the words appeared in the box. No response. “Sam, don’t be like that. Tell me where Crowley is and we can make this stop. You can sleep. Answer my questions and you can mourn your brother in peace.” Sam cursed the man foully. An arm reached on screen and poked Sam in the arm, Sam screamed.

“What have they done?” She asked horrified.

“I’m not sure. Something that amplifies pain or sensation, or a curse. Maybe a hex bag, I don’t know. I’ve tried every way I know to trace the signal and unless I make our captives scream, I don’t know how to find out. I’ve sent the digital signal to a friend to trace but I don’t know how long that will take.” He set down the iPad and pulling on gloves, punched the bag as hard as he could. 

“Alright, Sam, you don’t want to talk about Crowley, how did you brother die? How did that save the day?” She jabbed at the icons on the bottom of the screen until she managed to mute the video.

 

 

~

 

Once Cas made it to Ash’s heaven he hid in the old storage shed behind the roadhouse, the other angels wouldn’t find him there, and if Ash did notice him, he would probably help him, not turn him over. He looked down at Earth and found the bunker. There was a surprising number of tire tracks in front that Cas didn’t remember from when he arrived with Sam. He looked in the entrance and saw a wet patch of floor, recently washed. The place was in shambles. The sigil that had banished him still on the wall. He noticed that his name was written in Enochian in the center. The form of the sigil seemed familiar to Cas although he knew it had been centuries since he had seen anything like it. Someone had been sleeping in one of the chairs recently and he knew it wasn’t Sam. The brothers were both too big to sleep in a single small sofa chairs. He searched the bunker and in the gym he found Dean still alive, punching a bag and on the bench at the side of the room was Mary Winchester.

Mary Winchester was alive. Sitting there in the bunker with Dean, who was supposed to be dead.  Dean was alive. How? Chuck had disappeared, was that how Chuck died? Just popped out of existence? Or had Amara summoned him and they both died with the bomb in Dean’s chest went off? But here was Dean, with no bomb in his chest. Cas could feel the healing touch of Chuck on Dean, then the angelic touch of someone else, he couldn’t remember who. 

He looked at Mary. She had a hint of that angelic touch as well, but mostly Cas could feel Amara on her. Had Amara brought Mary back? Was Amara still alive? If so then was Chuck? Cas could feel his frustration at not knowing begin to boil inside him. Mary looked healthy but she looked like she was in emotional pain. Dean was filled with icy anger. Something was terribly wrong and Cas guessed it had to do with how the bunker had been tossed and the lack of Sam in the picture. 

Mary was hunched over an iPad, watching a video. Cas adjusted his vision so he could see the screen. Sam was on it and he had been tortured. He was being questioned but was remaining silent, despite the drugs they were pumping into his system. The iPad dinged and Mary almost dropped it. She jabbed it with a finger then called Dean over. He was sweaty, and pulled off his gloves and took over control of the iPad while sitting next to Mary. He read an email intensely then. Closed the email and handed it back to Mary. 

“They couldn’t track it.” Dean pulled on the gloves, and started hitting the punching bag harder than ever. 

“Is there any other way to track where they took Sam.” Mary asked forlornly, going back to the video feed of Sam.

“No,” Dean said and punched the bag hard enough Cas was surprised he didn’t break a bone in his hand. Cas looked at the video feed and used some of what Dean called his ‘mojo’ to follow it back to its source.

An old factory outside Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. Sam was there, still blindfolded and tied to the chair and still ignoring the questions. Cas watched as the man in scrubs was told by a woman in a suit to up the dosage. There was some discussion of drugs and Scrubs went to a case in a corner and pulled out a vial of something reddish. Scrubs injected it into Sam’s IV and they watched as Sam visibly relaxed. Suit Woman came back over to Sam and holding him by the hair asked him where she could find Rowena. Sam looked up at her and half smiled. “Maybe making out with Lucifer?” Cas could tell she was debating between taking him seriously and slapping him.

“She knows Lucifer?”

“You know, you kind of remind me of her.”

“Really? In what way?”

“You both think you have way more power over men than you really do.” She did slap him this time. She went back to Scrubs and the two started arguing in whispers. But Cas was watching Sam. Something was wrong. He breathing was changing, and his abnormally pale skin was turning the wrong shade of red. He vomited. Scrubs and Suit Woman looked over at him and Scrubs immediately knew what was wrong and swore. Sam was wheezing. 

“Go get two people to help move him.” Scrubs said while diving in his case looking for something. Suit Woman was smart and didn’t ask questions, just left the room. Sam’s face was swelling and he was looking around the room but not seeing anything. Scrubs not finding what he was looking for turned, pulled the IVs in each arm, and threw the hex bag to the far side of the room. When Sam was loose his shoulders slumped but he pulled off the blindfold and looked at the man, then punched him in the nose. Scrubs fell over backwards his nose broken and Sam stood for a moment, took two steps towards the door and collapsed, struggling to breath as he scratched at his neck. 

Scrubs staggered to his feet, pulled out a handkerchief and held it to his bleeding nose and looked down at Sam. Cas could tell that the man half wanted Sam to die right there, but that something was impelling him to keep Sam alive. Sam’s face was turning blue. Scrubs started swearing like a sailor and knelt next to Sam, pulling him onto his back and straightening his neck to help him breath easier. It helped but only a little. 

Suit Woman was followed back into the room by a man and a woman. “He’s going to stop breathing soon. You,” he pointed at the woman, “when he does you start giving him breaths. Two breaths then count to three then two more breaths. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” She knelt by Sam’s head and watching his breathing intensely. 

Turning Suit Woman he said “Look through my case, anything with ‘ephrine’ in the name, pull it out.” She turned and did as told. Scrubs looked at the man. “Track his pulse. Eventually, it’s going to stop. You will do chest compressions. Three then let her do two breaths, then three more compressions. You will continue until I tell you to stop.” Then Scrubs ran out of the room. 

After two minutes, the woman started giving Sam breaths. About three minutes after that, the man started compressions. Suit Woman had pulled out two bottles. They both held milky solutions. Scrubs came running back into the room after a good ten minutes. He popped the top off an EpiPen and stabbed it into Sam’s leg. Cas knew it would not be enough fast enough, but that in the end Scrubs would bring Sam back. 

That gave Cas 30 seconds to a minute to talk to Sam. He ran to the Winchester hallway in heaven.

 

 

~

 

Cas awkwardly shifted his weight back and forth while he waited. The white door in front of him was labeled “Sam Winchester May 2, 1983- May 26 th , 2016”. Light was shining through the cracks in the door but all Cas could do was wait. He looked up and down the white hallway but saw no one. He never would have admitted it to anyone but Dean, but he was embarrassed for anyone to see him in Heaven right now. Plus if an angel did see him, as Dean would say, it ‘just wouldn’t end well.’

So he waited. Waited for the light to recede and he could open the door. He knew that the longer the light took, the more complex the heaven was going to be for that person, but he hadn’t realized that Sam was this complex. 

A sound echoing through the halls made him look up, someone was coming, they would look down this hall as they passed and see him. The light started to recede and Cas grabbed the doorknob before it was fully formed and stepped in, closing the door behind him. holding onto the doorknob like an anchor as the light in the room swirled. He turned to see where he was. 

Sam was in the bunker at the big conference table with a stack of books. To his right, Amelia was scratching a dog and across the table were Dean and Lisa. Of course, he doesn’t want one thing, he wants it all. So maybe Sam wasn’t that complicated after all. 

“Cas! Get your but over here. What do you know about the Latvian god Saule?” Dean called before taking a sip of his beer.

“Why do you always yell at Cas? Even when you are happy to see him?” Lisa asked her nose in a book, her feet on Dean’s lap. Cas ignored them. They were not actually Dean and Lisa, they were only heavenly figments used to populate Sam’s heaven. 

“Sam, I need to talk to you right now.” And he marched across the bunker. Sam looked up slightly confused.

“Okay… What’s up?”

Cas walked right up to Sam, grabbed him by his flannel collar and pushed him against a wall.

“Sam you have to listen to me, and only me right now. We don’t have much time.”

A cheery voice came from down a hallway was followed immediatly by Charlie. “I’ve got Nachos bit- CAS!” she almost dropped the nachos. “What are you doing here? And why do you have Sam against the wall.” Almost like an aside, she asked Dean while pointing to them, “Should I be concerned by this?”

Before anyone else could speak, Cas continued. “Sam, you are dead. This is your heaven. The others don’t really exist, they are heavenly figments.” Cas ignored Dean’s ‘Hey!’ and continued. “You are dead, but you won’t be for long. Dean is alive. He is alive and so is your Mom.” 

Behind him, he could hear Dean whisper, “mom?”

“They are at the bunker and looking for you. You have to tell them to take down the angel sigil in the front room. I’m trapped in heaven as long as it is up. They have to destroy the sigil. Do you understand me?”

“Cas, are you okay?” Sam tried to wiggle away from him, but Cas held Sam securely against the wall. “Mary and Dean are alive and in the bunker watching you on their equipment. You have to tell them to take down the sigil. I can’t help, I can’t return to earth until that sigil is destroyed!” Sam clutched his heart.

“Sam, Did you hear me?” Cas yelled.

Sam was leaning forward clutching his chest. “Sam!” 

Finally, Sam spoke, “Yeah I hear you…” Cas was now the only thing keeping Sam on his feet and the room began to shake like an earthquake. 

“Tell them, Sam!” Cas shouted and touched Sam on the forehead and then he was back in the hallway, with two angels glaring at him, angel blades drawn.

“Guys, it’s me, Castiel.” He said as he inched backwards.

“Do you really think it makes that much of a difference at this point?”

Cas turned and ran.

 

 

 

Part 4

Mary sat watching. Hands white, gripping the iPad. Dean was next to her, watching as they gave CPR to a purple faced Sam. He was in anaphylactic shock, and there was nothing she could do. He was somewhere, being held by enemies, dying and there was nothing she could do. When the doctor ran back in he held something and Dean sighed with relief as it was stabbed into Sam’s leg.

“What is that?” she asked still not taking her eyes off the screen.

“An EpiPen. It administers epinephrine, to pull him out of the anaphylaxis.” Dean said. That she could understand. She prayed silently that it would work. Slowly his face became less purple, the rash that had broken out on most of his skin started to relax. He opened his eyes and wheezed for breath. 

Mary thought she would cry with relief. Until she realized that Sam was only barely breathing. The doctor noticed it too and ran to the bottles the woman had found. “They’re both expired,” she said. To which the doctor swore, then holding up the clearer of the two filled a huge syringe. 

Kneeling over Sam he injected the fluid directly into his heart. Sam convulsed, gasping desperately then gasping louder. He clutched at his chest and rolled onto his side, breathing like he had just run a marathon. Mary turned to Dean and hugged him close, pulling his head under her chin like she had last week when he was a child. After a minute she let go of him and they went back to watching the iPad.

 

 

~

 

“Dean?” a few hours had passed and though Sam seemed weaker than ever he was doing much better. The rash had left, and he was breathing without wheezing. He was delirious, but at least he was breathing normally.

“Yeah? Any change?” he asked from down the hall.

She had enjoyed listening to the interrogator woman dress down the doctor for having expired medicine and not having a bleeping EpiPen. Apparently, he had taken it from the bag of one of the grunts on guard duty.  

But now she was watching Sam and wondering just how delirious he really was. Every few minute he beat his chest and mumbled about breaking sigils. It clicked in her head.

“DEAN!” That got him moving and she heard bare feet slapping the ground. A moment later Dean came in, hair wet, shirt not yet buttoned, but gun up. 

“Dean, look at this. I think he is sending us a message.” 

“What?” Dean half mumbled and came around to her side of the table. “See, he just did it again. His hand is making the sign for the letter ‘D’ and then he mumbles about breaking sigils.” She looked up at Dean and she could see the wheels turning in his head. 

“Hang on.” Dean turned went back to his room, and was back with his phone, wearing socks and his shirt buttoned. She followed him this time into the front room.  Dean took a picture of the sigil then pulling a knife out of his back pocket and scratched off a part of the sigil. It flashed red for a moment then flaked off the wall like burning paper to land as ash at Dean’s feet.

There was a knock at the door, and Dean called out. “Cas, Come on in.”

“Thank you.” An exhausted voice behind Mary said, and she turned and without thinking drew and fired at the man’s leg. He didn’t move just glanced down then back up at Dean while catching his breath.

“Mom, it’s okay. This is Castiel.” He went up to Castiel and the two hugged. How had Castiel just appeared? 

“Cas, this is my Mom, Mary.” Castiel looked at Mary.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you, Mary Campbell Winchester.” 

“Uh, yeah. You too.”

“Cas, you okay?”

“Fine, I was… running.”

“Did you tell Sam to tell us to break the sigil?”

“Yes. When he died, I went to his heaven and told him you two were watching and that they needed to break the sigil for me to leave heaven. I’ve been stuck up there for days now.”

“How?”

“Something about this sigil, it sent me back to heaven and kept me there as long as the sigil was intact. I have never seen anything like it, although I had heard of such a thing but that was millennia ago. Once you broke it I was able come to the bunker, but the Men of Letters renewed some of the wardings.”

“Cas, you teleported?” Dean asked with measured excitement. Mary could see Dean had plans for Cas if the answer was what he hoped for. 

“Yes. I’m back to full power.” Cas stepped back and a strange light flashed on Castiel and large black wings  spread out behind him. Dean whistled in appreciation and the wings disappeared. 

“Tell me you know where Sammy is?” Dean asked a gleam in his eyes.

“I do. An old factory outside of Oklahoma City. It’s warded against me, but I can get you to the door.”

“That's enough.” Dean turned to Mary. “I’m breaking him out. I’d feel better if you stayed here. Cas will be backup enough for me.” Mary raised an eyebrow at him and he changed his tune. “Okay… Cas if you can draw out schematics, I’ll grab my gear. Mom, what kind of gear do you want?”

“I’ll come with you.”

 

 

~

 

In the library, Mary checked the chamber of her dart gun and looked over at Dean. He was decked out like her at her insistence. They were going against humans not monsters and they needed to prepare for that. They wore armored vests, each had two high-powered dart guns, and plenty of spare darts thanks to Cas’ ‘shopping trip’. At Dean’s insistence, they each carried a few knives and a gun. She guessed that he had far more weapons on him, but she didn’t push. 

When Dean was ready she looked at Castiel. “Do you have the other thing I asked for?” Castiel nodded and handed each of the humans a bag. Dean looked in it curiously. 

“What is this?” He asked.

“I’m going to teach you a simple spell.” Dean looked at her and she couldn’t read the look on his face.

“My mother taught it to me.” She said almost defensively. “Take a pinch, blow it in someone’s face and say ‘bah rah gah doh.’ They will instantly fall asleep. It works better than the darts, but only at close quarters.” She pulled some of the camomile out and hid it on her person.

Dean shrugged, put the bag in his pocket and then looked back at Cas. “I think we’re ready.” She nodded. 

“Remember, break the sigils and I can help you. Mary, bend your knees. Dean once said that makes this easier.” Cas touched her forehead and they were standing outside an old building. She stumbled a little, grateful she had bent her knees.

“Wait just a moment,” Castiel said and was gone. 

“Where has he gone?” she asked.

Dean smiled grimly, “He is taking out the perimet-“ Cas reappeared, “-er guard.” 

“The outside is clear now. Get in, break the sigils and get Sam out and I’ll transport you all back to the bunker.” 

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean said as he pulled open the door in the wall behind him. Mary followed him in after touching Cas’ arm to show her gratitude. 

With only a half dozen lights on in the whole factory, it was dark with very little moonlight coming in through dirty windows and they took a minute for their eyes to adjust. Then Dean led the way through the old factory. At the first man they saw, Dean snuck up close, she shot the man with a tranquilizer and Dean caught the body before he could make noise. The third time they did it, she had to shoot another man they hadn’t been able to see before he could sound the alarm. They waited in silence wondering if anyone else had heard the body hit the ground. 

When they heard nothing they continued. Castiel had guessed that there were ten people total in the factory and with Cas’ help they had already knocked out six. That left a potential of four more Men of Letters, assuming Castiel’s count was correct. She was starting to think that this would go fairly smoothly when she felt something cold against her neck. She paused and cleared her throat. Dean looked back and raised his gun in her direction. 

“We were told he had no friends.” A voice said.

“And I was told you guys didn’t exist. We were both misinformed.” She could barely make out Dean smiling as he slowly and carefully unhooked the dart gun and set it down on a conveyer belt next to him. A hand peaked out in front of her and unclicked her own gun which was then lowered out of her sight. A set of hands patted her down and her gun and two of the knives were found and removed. She watched unmoving as two people came from behind her and striped Dean of his weapons.

“Don’t forget their vests.” This was a moment she could use. As the right shoulder strap was loosened, yellow powder drifted into the air she turned her head and blew on it, saying “Bah Rah Gah Doh” then she dove out of the way. Two bullets hit the shoulder of her vest and turned her in the air. She heard Dean fighting, she rolled as she landed and was off running. A hand grabbed her ponytail and pulled her backwards. She grunted as she fell, but rolled and yanked her hair out of the assailant’s hand. 

“Run!” she yelled as she kicked the legs out from under the closest man. He fell with a thud and over him she saw Dean wrestling over a gun. She drew a blade and threw it at the man coming up behind Dean. A foot caught her in the side and she rolled to lessen the impact. 

“Go! Now!” she yelled. She twisted to avoid another foot, grabbed that ankle and twisted till she heard a crackle pop. Then she heard before she felt the snap of her own left arm as another foot came down on it. She screamed and turned it into a “RUN!” realizing she was pinned by her arm she twisted, wrapped herself around the leg that was standing on her arm and arched her back ignoring the pain. There were crackling noises from this leg then something was flying towards her face.

 

 

~

 

Castiel watched it all from outside. He saw Mary’s fighting technique and was impressed. He saw Dean run for one of the first times in his life, but Castiel knew it was the right decision. Just as Cas knew that Mary had broken one assailant’s knee, and another’s ankle. Cas knew that neither of them would ever walk normally again. She had killed the man coming up behind Dean with her blade. 

Dean had always been more of a brawler. He had dished out two concussions, a snapped wrist, and two dead bodies before he had turned and run. Cas had watched Dean run, cursing to himself the whole time. Dean had stopped and when the first follower caught up, he jumped her. He knocked her out and used her own zip ties to hog tie her to a pipe. And then Dean planning how to take out the rest.

Cas almost felt pity for them, if you wanted to live, you did not mess with Dean Winchester’s family. And if you did, well, you better run and pray he wouldn’t follow you overseas. Because anything less and you would not stay in one piece for long. Watching Dean silently run through the factory Cas started to have an idea of what Dean was probably planning and he disappeared to help back Dean’s play.

 

 

~

 

Mary didn’t move, she just listened as she tried to put together what had happened.

“Someone is still out there. He’s picking our men off one by one.” A man with a very stuffy nose said.

“I know. Who is it? They said they were human, right. The Winchesters don’t play well with other humans. What human would come to their aid?” a woman responded in a British accent.

“I don’t care who it is, your men need to catch him. I can’t afford to be seen here! Doing this.”

“What’s the matter, Hank? Afraid of being known for all your skills?” Silence, until Mary heard a door open and another voice speak.

“Ma’am, Whoever he is, he’s slowly taking control of the factory.” This male voice was also British.

‘Ma’am’ responded, “Fall back to defensible positions. We will have reinforcements in a few hours. Whoever he is, can’t get in here without going down the corridor. I want that corridor locked down.” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” The third voice replied and the door shut behind him. 

“Well, why are you just standing there. Get back to work.” The woman said.

“Feel free to ask as many questions as you like, but there is nothing more I can do until he has rested more. Not unless you want him to die again. You do remember that I said I needed a full medical history.”

“You do remember that other than his time at Stanford, he has lived off the grid since he was a toddler, his medical records aren’t exactly easy to find. “

“An entire class of drugs are now out of the question. I’m going to have to get creative and then do the math to make sure it won’t kill him.” Somehow Mary could imagine Hank giving a death glare with that statement. 

“What about her?” Mary suppressed a shiver.

“I could, but you know my fee would go up.”

“Yes, I know.” ‘Ma’am’ said exasperatedly. “Do you think you could use one against the other to get them to talk?”

“Certainly.” Mary again had to suppress a shiver. 

“How much of our conversation do you think she has heard?” the woman asked.

“I would guess at least since your goon left.” A hand grabbed her chin and she opened her eyes to see the doctor who had tortured her son. She spat at his face, but he moved back in time to avoid it. He slapped her and rubbed her sticky blood off his hand and onto his scrubs. Her blood must then be all over her face, like a mask. She could use that to her advantage. Mary smiled savagely.

“Well, at least she is more feisty than that one.” Mary carefully maintained her smile and did not look over at Sam. She was sitting in the same chair he had been, but she had a hex bag in her lap keeping her in place. She knew Sammy was on a table, each wrist cuffed to table leg, while his legs hung off the other end of the table from his knees down. She had seen him in the video and knew he looked like a beaten rag doll, she didn’t need to see it now. She needed to be seen as vicious. The more they were focused on her, the longer Sammy had and the more time Dean would have before they needed him. These people didn’t know that it was Dean. And they didn’t know that Dean was like his father, which meant that there was no way he was going to leave her and Sammy here unless they killed him. 

She remembered once before Dean was born, a mugger had tried to rob her after she pulled the Impala into a parking lot. John had already been there waiting for her, but apparently the mugger hadn’t noticed him. She had opened the car door when the mugger had appeared and kept her sitting in her car. There was no way for her to get to him without first being shot, so she had slowly gone along with his demands hoping that John was running late, that he wouldn’t get shot trying to save her. She had slowly pulled out her wallet when she heard a slap followed immediately by a thud and groan and by the time she had looked back John held the man’s gun in his own hands and the mugger was face down on the ground with John’s knee in his back. She remembered being ashamed that at that moment all she had been able to think was that he was a hunk and would have made a fine hunter. And apparently he had been.

She looked at the woman, ‘Ma’am’ was Lady Bevell from the security footage. The woman who had shot her son then watched him bleed. She was around Mary’s age and thin. Somehow Mary knew that in a fight, this woman would go down quickly. Mary snarled. Let people think what they would. She was going down swinging, even if it was while hexed to a chair. The two women looked each other up and down. Then another time for good measure. Neither wanting to give way to the other. Finally, Mary asked, “How old is he?”

“Who?” Bevell asked cooly.

“Your son. I’m guessing 1 st grade. Or what do you call it over there, first form?” Her face showed no emotion, but her eyes betrayed her. Mary was right. “And I assume he has no idea what you really do.” She paused. “No of course not. You are protective, that's why you do this work. You want him to grow up in a better world, so you do this dirty work now so his life can be easier. You hope that he will never have to become a Man of Letters, but you know that he will. You avoid thinking about that dark thought, don’t you? You know that someday he will be asked to do the same dark things that you have been. Because that is the way it is with Men of Letters. But don’t worry honey, it’s worse for hunters. You see, we don’t have the support of an organization. We just roll around and work at most in small family groups. Our children know how to chop off a Vamp’s head before they have their first kiss. Oh, I touched a chord there, didn’t I. So you’ve taken that route? Well, I guess my parents did too. You tell him the lore and the real facts but you hide it in fairy tales and bedtime stories where the good guy always wins. 

“But here is the real question, have you ever considered if the bad guy was really bad and if the good guy was really good or just the point of view that the story was being told from?” Mary finally stopped and smiled shrewdly again. 

The woman was silent, evaluating Mary, trying to find a crack in her armor. “Well, Mrs. Hunter.” She said with a pointed look at Mary’s left hand, laying helplessly on the arm of the chair. “I guess you might know more about raising a child than I would have initially expected. Tell me how did you know, about my son?” Mary smiled wider, there was no way she was going to say that she had been watching the feeds and that she had seen the woman staring at the picture of a little boy. They stared at each other. 

“Well then, Mrs. Hunter. What is your connection to the Winchester brothers?” Mary’s smile never faltered. Even as lady Bevell leaned back on the table Sammy was laying on and rested a hand on his chest. After a few minutes of silence, she continued. “Why risk everything, even risk leaving your child or children? All for Sam Winchester?” She felt her own smile grow more feral without her even trying. “Maybe we should clean up some of that blood on your face and see who you really are.”

Mary continued to smile, she could tell it was starting to discomfort the woman, but she knew that both she and Sammy were safer if they didn’t know who she was. 

The power went out and the room plunged into darkness, then an instant later the lights came back on to flash and go dark. Mary heard each bulb shatter as far too much power swept through its wiring. In the dark, she whispered, “Kah toh, mah day, tay roh!” The hex bag in her lap disintegrated and she dropped to the floor as the woman told the man to flick on his light. 

Down the hall came the sound of gunshots, and a scream. Mary dropped silently to all fours and crawled behind the chair. She tried to tune out the sound of brawling outside the room and listened for the scraping sound of a lighter. She stood, and slowly trying not to let her new boots squeak, walked towards the sound. Hank must have had his back to her because his shoulders were outlined in the sparks.

Mary realized that she shouldn’t stop Hank, the flickering light with her own blood mask would be terrifying. So she moved towards the corner table. She thought she had seen her things stacked on the floor next to it. She moved slowly and carefully. In the small room, she made it to the corner, crouched and as quietly as possible, searched through her things. The lighter finally caught and in the dim light she picked up her bag of chamomile and turned.

The British woman had a gun trained on her. Mary smiled and remembering a picture of a Polynesian warrior flicked her tongue a few times but otherwise remained still. The bang of a body thrown against the other side of the wall closest to the hallway distracted the other two and she dove at Hank. The light went out and Hank attacked her. He was far more brutal than she had expected. He felt her hair, half out of its ponytail and pulled, she groaned and spun hitting him with her good arm, but the angle was bad and it couldn’t have hurt much. She heard more banging, and a crash of glass but she ignored it. She elbowed Hank in the gut and he groaned. She wiggled until she was on top of Hank and with her good arm pummeled him in the darkness. She couldn’t see but she knew where he was. A few times he was able to turn his head and she hit the cement, but she didn’t care. All of her anger, her rage, and frustration, her fear and sorrow were coming out, and she continued to pummel the man. He stopped fighting back but she kept punching. A light shone on her but she didn’t care, until two arms slipped under her arms and lifted her off. 

As soon as her feet touched the ground again she turned ready to take another swing but stopped herself when she saw it was Dean holding her. She looked at Dean and his face was yet again impassive. She looked past him to the flashlight that was beaming on them but couldn’t see the face beyond the light.

“It’s okay now. It’s okay.” Dean said, and she had to focus on him for a moment before she remembered Sammy. She slipped out of Deans grasp and ran the few feet to where Sammy lay on the table. She touched his cheek, prickly with a few day’s growth and gently turned his head towards her. He opened his eyes and stared at her.

“Whoa.” He said softly. 

“Sammy.” She whispered then she pulled him to her with her good arm. She held him as the cuffs were picked and she only released him to hold onto his hand when Dean picked him up. She walked with Dean who walked behind the man with the other flashlight. She didn’t notice the broken window in the room they had been in or any of their surroundings as they left the factory until she saw the other man open a door and moonlight filled the doorway. 

Outside the light was almost blinding and there Castiel stood waiting. As soon as they were through the door he came forward and Dean laid Sammy down on the ground and looked back up at Cas with a look of pleading. With two fingers, Castiel touched Sammy’s forehead and Sammy gasped. He opened his eyes again and looked up. “Cas?” then he looked at the other faces, Mary’s blood covered one which he passed over to look at the man still on guard, “Cole?” 

“Yeah man,” Cole said.

Then Sammy’s eyes met Dean’s. “Dean? You’re alive!” Dean’s eyes were shining and Sam who had started to sit up collapsed to the ground again before the two were hugging fiercely. Mary felt almost like an outsider. Then, she felt two cool dots on her own forehead and as she realized that the two dots were the tips of Castiel’s fingers, she felt light flood through her, it filled her, it calmed her, and she felt the power seal up the pain in her arm and shoulder, and her head that she hadn’t even realized was throbbing. She felt clean inside and out and somehow she knew that the blood was gone from her face. 

She looked up at Castiel from where she knelt by Sammy’s side and smiled shyly, then looked back down at her boys. Dean spoke first and broke their grip. “Sam, Mom’s back.” Sam looked at Dean in bewilderment then looked around until his eyes locked on Mary’s. She reached out a hand and he silently took it. He looked back at Dean but must have seen what he hoped to in Dean’s face because he squeezed her hand and then she pulled him to her. He held her back, gently at first then more fiercely. After a bit, she released him and wiped the tears from her face. 

The others stood and talked but she didn’t pay attention to what they said, as she tried to get ahold of her emotions. Dean’s voice brought her out of it, when he said, “Thanks, I couldn’t have done it without you, man.” She looked up to see Dean clasp Cole’s arm then hug him, the same way John did had done, with his war buddies. 

“Thank you, Cole.” She said.

“It was an honor to meet you, ma’am.” He said and the way he said it she knew the man actually was military. Castiel touched Cole’s forehead and Cole disappeared. 

She started to stand and both Dean and Sammy reached down to help her. She held onto her boys and looked at Castiel. “Thank you Castiel, for watching over my boys and me.”

“It truly was an honor, ma’am.” Then he touched Dean and Sammy’s shoulders and the Winchesters, minus Castiel were in the bunker library again. She took each of her boys by the hand and without speaking led them to sit on a sofa with her. She held their hands as they talked. They caught up on what had happened since the last time they had seen each other, what Cas had done. They talked around a lot of things, but Mary didn’t care, even though she noticed. She had her boys. They were safe. They were strong and handsome and good like their father was, or had been. She fell asleep that night, between her sons, thinking of John and what spells she could use to pull her back to her time, to make sure yellow eyes didn’t kill her, and to make sure that her sons never grew up to be hunters.

 

 

 


End file.
